


A Slipping Grip

by ishkaw



Category: X-Men Evolution
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends, Friendship, M/M, Pre-Slash, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Assault, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-13 09:27:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 78,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2145594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishkaw/pseuds/ishkaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance decides to turn his life around by joining the high school's gymnastics team, resulting in a slow-forming friendship with Kurt. While Lance gradually changes himself, Kurt must handle unwanted attention from their coach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Start

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Later on (several chapters down the road), there will be sexual assault and non-con.  
> Also, there will be slash but not until much later as first Lance and Kurt have to move past being enemies. 
> 
> Notes: The only knowledge I have about male gymnastics is from watching it on TV during the Olympics and the brief internet research I did when I wanted to check something. So bear with me as I use this feeble knowledge and apply it to a high school setting. I’ll try to keep the actual gymnastics part to a minimum.  
> It has also been a really long time since I’ve seen the show (minus the first season), so forgive me for inaccuracies. Also, this fic is AU in the sense of timeline and events that occurred in the show.

** A Slipping Grip: **

** A New Start **

Lance hesitated at the doorway to the gym. Inside he could see that the gym had been transformed from its normal, squeaky basketball floors to a padded area with various apparatuses meant to showcase agility, balance and strength. This was his moment to decide. Should he finish what he started earlier when he asked Coach Trieg about joining the gymnastics team? Or should he just forget about his pledge to himself and walk away?

Undecided, he resettled his backpack on his shoulder as he watched as someone, a rather muscle-bound guy, jump and grab two rings that were dangling from some stretchy-looking bands. Muscles, as Lance deemed him, slowly lifted himself up - biceps straining, face contorted- until he had brought his body into the shape of a cross. Lance silently counted until Muscles couldn’t last any longer and dropped to the mat beneath him. Watching as Coach Trieg roughly pulled Muscles to his feet to probably give pointers, Lance smirked to himself. He could do better. All he had to do was walk in to the gym.

“Alvers, there you are. Glad you could join us. Now get your butt in here.” Lance looked up to see Coach Trieg striding towards him. His distinguished fading-blonde hair and tall form could be intimidating to some, but to Lance the Coach was just another stupid authority figure to disobey. He wanted to turn around right then but the Coach had already caught up to him and was dragging him inside.

“Practice starts at 5:00 sharp. I expect you to be here on time from now on.”

Lance wanted to sneer and say something disparaging, but stopped himself. He was trying to change, to create something positive in his life. He couldn’t do that by balking at every opportunity to do so. Besides, Trieg was still talking and pulling him forward.

“I was unsure of you, Alvers. But you showed up. That’s commitment, and I like that.” When Trieg finally let go of Lance’s arm, Lance bought a hand up to rub where the Coach had gripped his bicep. He had clearly not eschewed working out himself. “You’ll need to dress out in some form fitting clothes, no need for any athletic shoes. I’ll have someone run you down on all the basics and introduce you to the team. Be like a mentor or such.” Trieg scanned the gym for a second, obviously having someone in mind already. Spotting him, Trieg beckoned Lance to follow to a form with longish black hair stretching on the mat.

“You’ll like him. Real nice guy. Very agile and good at…”

But Lance wasn’t listening anymore. He had stopped a few feet away, a sneer already forming on his lips. He knew who Coach Trieg thought would be a “great” mentor to him, and there was no way in hell that Lance was going to follow some idiotic fuzzbrain around.

“Kurt, spare a moment for me.”

Wagner stopped stretching and looked up at Trieg questioningly.

“Got some fresh blood for our team. I’d like you to help him out. Show him around. Introduce him to the rest of the team and give him some pointers. ”

“Um, sure. No problem.”

Lance noticed how Trieg gently helped Wagner up. Nope, no favoritism there. But now he was going to make sure he’d savor this moment. It was going to be good. Watching as Wagner slowly turned around, he enjoyed how the expression on his face turn from open and inviting to shock. “Lance?”

“The one and only.”

“Oh good. You two know each other.” Trieg was either completely oblivious to rising tension in the air or didn’t care. “Perfect. Now I’m going to go and help Miguel out while you show Alvers around.”

“Coach-”

“Wait!”

Both of them yelling out in unison stopped Trieg in his path. He turned around and regarded them. “Is something the matter?”

Lance glared at Wagner, but let him talk considering he was the one with an established relationship with the Coach.

“Well, I don’t think I’m the best for this. See Lance and I-”

“Nonsense!” Trieg smiled kindly and put a reassuring arm around Wagner’s shoulders. “You’ll be just fine. You got a good handle on all of the equipment and have a good nature about yourself. I’ve got every faith in you.” He squeezed Wagner’s shoulder before heading off to Miguel who was having difficulty with a routine on the pommel horse.

“Well that was touching and heart-warming. Where’s my bucket for puke?”

Wagner turned towards him, his face reflecting the same displeasure at being forced with each other’s company. “What are you doing here?”

“Joining the gymnastics team. What does it look like I’m doing.” Lance knew what Wagner meant but was having too much fun in riling him up. Besides, Lance sure as hell wasn’t going to disclose to the furball his reasons for his atypical move.

“Why? You don’t really seem like a team type.”

“I am Brotherhood member, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, as you guys have shown such great camaraderie and team spirit.”

Wagner had him there but Lance wasn’t going to concede that point. “Whatever. Aren’t you supposed to be some great mentor or shit and introduce me to some other people so I don’t have to look at your ugly face much longer.”

Wagner rolled his eyes at him, but turned to look for someone that wasn’t preoccupied. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to Mark.” Wagner started leading him towards a bench where the guy Lance had referred to as Muscles sat with a towel slung over his shoulders and was drinking from a water bottle. “Try to be nice to him. He’s a good guy.”

Lance huffed in response but followed Wagner.

“Who’s this?” Mark asked as he ran his towel through his blonde hair damp with sweat. Mark’s eyes didn’t even seem to register that Kurt was there but stared straight to Lance. No greeting, a gruff question. Hopefully everyone on the team was more like this guy.

Lance wanted to butt in and not give the privilege of introducing himself to Wagner, but he figured Wagner was right. He should probably make a good impression. He didn’t want to alienate everyone on the team and be left with Wagner to ask for help. Spare him the pain.

“This is Lance. He’s going to be joining our team. Lance,” Wagner gestured over to Muscles, “Mark. Mark is really awesome at the rings. Ask him to show you the ropes.”

“Your puns are always awful, Kurt” Mark replied, not a lick of humor tracing his voice. Lance’s spirits lifted. Maybe Mark was being brusque because he didn’t like Wagner. Maybe he’d found someone who he could commiserate with over how annoying Wagner could be.

“Hey, I try.” Unfazed by Mark’s terse response, Wagner’s voice still hosted a smile.

“I would hold out my hand,” Mark directed towards Lance, “but considering I’m all covered in sweat, I doubt you’d want to shake it.” Mark glanced between them, observing both of their warded body language. “Do you two know each other already?”

Lance exchanged a brief look with Wagner.

“ _Ja._ Lance is in some of my classes.” Lance had no problem with Wagner omitting the other half of their connection. Before Wagner had to launch into some kind of explanation of their unenthused reaction with each other, a voice spared them from the awkward conversation.

“Kurt! Do you think you could come help me?” Some brown-haired kid was slumped under the high bar, defeated by the apparatus.

“Yeah. One second,” Kurt called back. “Mark, do you mind hanging out with Lance for a bit. Answer any of his questions?”

“No. Go help Trey out. He’ll whine until you do.”

“He just gets frustrated easily.”

“ _Kuuurt_!”

Mark raised an eyebrow at Kurt at the sound of Trey’s plaintive cry. Wagner smiled slightly at that but didn’t deny Mark’s observation.

Lance watched Wagner run off to help Trey out, making sure to memorize who Trey was so he could do his best to avoid him. Realizing that he was finally free of Wagner, Lance let out a relieved sigh. Turning back to Mark, Lance figured he’d go ahead and do his best to win him over to his side while Wagner was occupied.

“I saw you practicing earlier.” Lance nodded with his head towards the rings. “Seems pretty difficult.”

“It is. Lots of the team really struggle with it. I’ll show you how to use them since I’m probably the best at it.”

“Yeah?”

Mark took another swig of water before nodding in affirmation. “It’s probably Kurt’s weakest apparatus.”

Lance grinned and regarded Mark with an even higher esteem than before. “That’s good to know. Coach Trieg was going on and on about how awesome Wagner is. Made me want to gag myself with my own saliva.”

“Yeah, I don’t like it.”

“Right? I doubt he even deserves half the praise Trieg lavishes on him.” Mark turned to look at Lance, but Lance was on a roll and took Mark’s silence as approval to continue. “He’s so annoying and is such a freak.” He watched as Wagner animatedly talked to Trey as he helped him out. “He’s just so-”

Mark stood up, cutting Lance off. While he wasn’t any taller than Lance, his larger form demanded attention. “You’ve misjudged me. I know I come across as rude, but that’s just the way I am. Doesn’t mean I don’t support my teammates.”

Lance almost took a step back in deference to Mark, but anger rose up in him. Feeling defensive over his opinion – an accurate one at that - and cross that he’d misread Mark, Lance lashed out.

“Well, Wagner and I _don’t_ get along.”

Mark’s grey eyes bored straight through Lance. “I don’t care. Whatever the reason, I won’t tolerate assholes on my team or someone acting like an asshole to a teammate. Calling someone a freak is _not_ cool. Besides, I didn’t see Kurt introducing you as the douchebag. ”

“That’s because he’s probably going to tell you later how much he hates me. Be stupid to say it right in front of me.”

“I think you’ve also misjudged Kurt.” Before Lance could counter, Mark held up a hand and continued on. “Also, what I meant by ‘not liking it’ I meant that I don’t like Trieg fawning over Kurt, and I know neither does Kurt. I don’t like Trieg.” Mark moved in front of Lance to gather his full attention. “Lance, I think you’d be good to have on this team. It’d be good to have someone else built like me. But I’d recommend dropping the attitude.”

Before Lance could stew over that comment, Kurt returned.

“Trey okay, then?” Mark asked as he backed away from Lance and calmly sat back down on the bench like nothing had transpired.

“ _Ja_ , I think so. He wasn’t getting enough momentum to do the full twist. Everything going ok here?”

Lance didn’t fail to notice the trepidatious glance Wagner sent between the two. What did he think he was going to do? Mug Mark while he wasn’t standing as a guard?

“Going well. About to show Lance the rings.” Mark gestured over to the forlorn rings that swung slightly from the gym’s A/C.

Lance was slightly surprised at Mark’s willingness to still teach him but kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want to get stuck with Wagner any longer than needed.

“As long as you don’t mind.” Wagner seemed hesitant to leave them alone. What did he think Lance was going to do? Corrupt Mark? Turn him against him? As much as Lance wouldn’t mind that, Mark already proved his loyalty.

“It’s cool.”

Wagner shrugged. “Sounds good. Just call me if you need me.” With that Wagner took off, probably just as glad as Lance to be done with each other for the day.

Lance was afraid that Mark was going to keep droning on about playing nice, holding hands and singing “Kumbaya,” but he just led him over and started teaching him techniques on wrapping his hands and putting on the hand grips.

After Lance got his hand grips settled and comfortable, Mark demonstrated how to grasp the rings and to pull himself up to a strength position.

“Give it a try,” Mark said as he dropped down to the mat.

Lance shrugged and walked over to take the rings in hand. The hand grips felt weird as he grasped the rings, and lifting his body up was a challenge in itself. The rings were all wobbly and he felt like bait struggling on the end of a line. He realized he may have underestimated how tough the rings actually were. Lance dropped to the mat, shaking out his arms.

“Maybe we should build up some more muscles.”

“I do lift weights,” Lance defended himself.

“We need to target all muscles, especially the back ones. It’ll help you keep the rings straight. Come on.” Mark led Lance over to the weight rack and for the rest of practice they did various reps while chatting. Lance rather enjoyed it. It was nice learning something new, and Mark didn’t seem inclined to bring up their initial kerfuffle. In fact, Mark was pretty good company. Straight and to the point and they seemed to have similar interests. Since Lance was in such high spirits, he decided he’d be magnanimous and overlook Mark’s friendship with Wagner.

 

As practice wound down, Lance and Mark headed towards the locker room along with the rest of the team. Shrugging his sweat soaked shirt off, Lance realized with a bit shocked that he actually enjoyed himself today. He mentally patted his back, proud of his decision to take this chance.

“See you tomorrow then?” Mark asked as he closed his locker. He wouldn’t mind hanging out with Mark more either. It’d be nice to have friends outside of the Brotherhood.

Lance nodded. “Tomorrow.”

“Later, Kurt,” Mark waved to the rear of the locker room as he left.

Wagner’s reply came out muffled as he pulled a clean shirt over his head.

Lance didn’t want to be the last one left with Wagner, so he hurried to pack up his things and get out of there. He haphazardly threw in his gym clothes and water bottle into his bag and began hurriedly lacing up his shoes.

Just as he sat up, ready to go, Wagner chose that moment to drop his things on the floor and sit on the bench across from him.

“So, after today, are you really joining the team?”

“Yeah, I am,” Lance said defiantly. He had already made his decision but even if today had been a disaster, he might’ve still joined just for the satisfaction at seeing Wagner’s disappointment.

Wagner ran a hand through his hair in obvious frustration. “Well, the team gets along really well …”

_And we don’t,_ Lance mentally finished Wagner’s sentence in his head. He sat back and crossed his arms, curious as to what Wagner was going to propose.

“I don’t want this to change the team dynamic so why don’t we just not talk to each other at practice.”

“So just pretend the other doesn’t exist? Sounds fantastic. Though aren’t you supposed to be my mentor, showing me around and shit.”

Wagner shrugged. “You seem to be getting along with Mark. He won’t mind.”

“You’ll probably be disappointing Trieg.”

This time it wasn’t Lance that caused Wagner to grimace. “Whatever. He can get over it.”

Maybe Mark was right and Wagner didn’t like Trieg’s attention. Still, didn’t change Lance’s mind on what he already thought of Wagner.

“Good, then starting tomorrow you’ll just be like an ant, beneath my notice.”

Wagner didn’t even deem that with a response – just picked up his stuff and left. Things were looking up.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't given up on "Retrieval of Self." This was just an idea that has been squirming in my head for awhile, and I finally decided to type it up.


	2. A Slip in Judgment

** A Slip in Judgment **

Resting on a bench after just practicing his high bar routine, Kurt took a swig from his water bottle. He was pretty satisfied with the way his run-through had gone and was thinking of more challenging skills he’d like to add to his routine. He sometimes liked to make up moves, add his own flair, but for competitions, he’d need something the judges would appreciate.

He really didn’t want to approach Trieg about learning a new skill. The coach just made him uncomfortable sometimes. A little too friendly, perhaps. Kurt wondered if it was just in his head, or he just hadn’t had enough school experience and maybe some teachers were just like that. Well, he could always learn from videos online anyway; and besides, Trieg’s knowledge of gymnastics was limited, having been focused more on football and other traditional high school sports.

Scanning the room to see if anyone needed a spotter, his eyes alighted on Mark and Lance practicing on the rings. In the past two weeks since Lance had joined the team, things had been going pretty well. For the most part. Lance mostly stuck by Mark or sometimes branched out to another teammate for help on various apparatuses. He’d pretty much followed their semi-truce and kept out of Kurt’s way. Which was all nice and well, except Kurt couldn’t help but feel a tension amongst the team since Lance’s appearance. Trey had confided in him that some of the other guys were speculating on what caused the rift between him and Lance, and that they were a little unsure on how to act around them both. It was like everyone was walking on eggshells, and they hadn’t even gotten to make an omelet.

Maybe he was partially to blame. He just couldn’t feel comfortable around Lance, knowing he could wreck something actually normal for once in Kurt’s life. He worried about what Lance was saying to Mark. He liked Mark and thought he was a nice guy, but what if Lance somehow turned him and then the rest of the team on him? It didn’t help that Lance liked to throw threatening stares his way, as if challenging him. Like right now. He must’ve been caught staring as Lance was looking his way, a scowl crossing his features. He mouthed something to him, but Kurt couldn’t figure out what it was he said. Probably better that way.

Maybe he should add a no looking at each other clause to their pact. He could imagine both of them walking around the lockers with their eyes closed, hands stretched forward and tripping over gym bags while trying to get changed. That brought a smile to his face, causing in turn Lance’s grimace to be replaced with confusion. This time Kurt was able to read his lips and determine that Lance was questioning his sanity with a “What the fuck?”

Kurt almost laughed out loud until he felt a hand drape itself over his shoulder followed by Trieg sitting down next to him on the bench.

“I’m disappointed in you, Kurt.”

Distracted by the shoulder around his back, it took a second for Kurt to process what Trieg had said to him. Kurt didn’t have anything to say to that and figured Trieg would expound upon the topic anyway.

“Alvers was new to the team, and I specifically assigned _you_ to help him out. Why didn’t you do like I asked?”

Feeling crowded from Trieg’s arm that remained resting on him, Kurt tried to scoot imperceptibly as to not be rude towards the end of the bench. “Well, Lance and I just really don’t get along. We figured it’d be best if someone else took over, and Mark volunteered.” True, he’d volunteered Mark but Mark accepted the duty. Trieg didn’t need to know the minute details.

Kurt’s feeble escape was thwarted as Trieg shifted with him followed up by a hand placed on his thigh. “I expected better from you. When I ask you to do something, I expect you to follow through. I’m your coach and you need to listen to me. Just think, if you decided this was okay now, not to listen to me, think about what could happen. You or someone could get seriously injured. Alvers is your responsibility, and if something happens to him, I’ll hold you accountable. You understand, right?”

Seeing that he had reached the end of the bench and there was nowhere else to go, Kurt just resigned himself until Trieg was done. “ _Ja_ , I understand.”

“So what are you going to do about it? I want a plan.”

Kurt glanced back over to Mark and Lance and saw that Mark was glowering in his direction. He wasn’t sure what it was he’d done to anger Mark now too, but sighed, figuring he’d worry about that after he got Trieg off his back. “I’ll talk to Lance about it and get him to work with me.”

“You need to apologize to him.”

Kurt was about to protest but Trieg motioned for silence with his hand before returning it back to Kurt’s thigh.

“You were the one that passed him off. You need to step up and own up to your mistake. Alright?”

“Ok,” Kurt agreed but there was no way he was actually going to apologize to Lance.

“Now I want you to do everything that I told you. I don’t expect to be disappointed again. You won’t let me down, right?”

Kurt just nodded. He was already working out in his head how to appease Coach without having to make too much of an effort to help Lance.

“I want to hear a ‘Yes, Coach.’”

“Yes, Coach,” Kurt repeated dutifully.

Trieg smiled and gave a squeeze to Kurt’s leg before standing. “I knew you’d come through.” Relieved that that conversation was over with, Kurt watched Trieg head back to his office.

He refocused his gaze down at his leg where Coach Trieg’s hand had rested, glad that he always wore long, form-fitting pants under his shorts and a similar long-sleeved top under his shirt. Even though gymnastics wasn’t a contact sport, it was still inevitable that someone would touch his arm or leg at some point, and he didn’t want anyone to know his true, furry form. But it seemed that rather than prevent his teammates from discovering his secret, it was utilized more in stopping Trieg. He wished that Trieg wasn’t so touchy-feely but he guessed that was just the man’s style.

Just as Kurt was about to get up, a looming shadow fell over him.

“What did Trieg want?”

Kurt sighed before running a hand through his hair and then looking up at Mark. Lance was standing just to Mark’s right, but Kurt decided to ignore him. “Coach Trieg doesn’t like it that you’re the one helping Lance out instead of me.”

“What does he care?”

“I dunno.” Kurt shrugged. “Something about doing what he says or the world as we know it will end.”

Mark ignored Kurt’s flippant remark. He didn’t think that whatever Coach Trieg said should be dismissed so easily. “Did he say what’d he do if you didn’t?”

“Not really. But it doesn’t matter. Trieg can just deal with it.” Kurt looked over to where he could see Coach’s silhouette outlined behind the frosted glass of his office. He was seated behind his desk but didn’t seem to be working on any papers. Dismissing Trieg, Kurt looked back to Mark. “Besides, I think our arrangement is working out fine.”

“No.”

 

 

“No?” Lance was incredulous. Why would Mark say no? They both got along with each other, and furbrain could go fuck off.

“You two are acting like immature assholes. Your behavior is affecting the whole team.”

Lance crossed his arms while Wagner regarded the other gymnasts carrying on their routines behind them. A few glanced over and then quickly away.

Wagner sighed and looked down with chagrin. “ _Ja,_ I know but Lance and I –”

“Lance and you are going to get over whatever it is you need to get over, starting off by us three working together every day, from now on.”

Lance groaned, not believing Mark’s inane suggestion.

“Shut it, Lance.” Mark’s tone brooked no argument. “The more time you two spend together, the better. Besides, you could use some better education on some other apparatuses, and Kurt here is the best one to teach you.”

Lance sneered at Wagner but didn’t say anything. It was hard to convince Mark of something once he made up his mind.

“I don’t think this is a great idea. Lance and I -” Whatever else Wagner was going to say to dissuade Mark of his ludicrous idea was cut off.

“No. Now get up.” Mark grabbed a hold of Wagner’s arm and almost flung him off the bench.

“Ouch, Mark.” Wagner stumbled a bit before turning around.

“Sorry. You’re such a lightweight.”

Wagner stuck his tongue out at Mark in response.

“Very mature.”

Lance, though, noticed a slight smile grace Mark’s face. Seeing Mark enjoy Wagner’s playfulness, Lance felt like punching a wall. He didn’t want Wagner to encroach on his burgeoning friendship with Mark. He just knew that somehow Wagner would ruin it all.

“Let’s go to the vault. You haven’t gotten any instruction on that and Wagner’s pretty good at it.”

“Thanks.”

Lance clenched his fists at Wagner’s proud smile. As they walked over, he trailed behind them, grumbling to himself and pulling faces behind Wagner’s back while listening to their banter.

“Don’t pretend to be humble. You know you’re good.” Mark gave Wagner a playful shove.

“ _Ja,_ I expect a parade and confetti next time I walk into the gym.”

“Sure and I’ll announce your presence.” Mark swept his arm in a grandiose fashion. “Everyone watch as this German kid trips and stumbles his way to fame.”

Wagner laughed in response. “Behold as I execute the perfect cartwheel.” With that, he proceeded to perform one, and just before he completed the arch, Mark tackled him to the ground.

“Sadly, the German’s dreams were interrupted by the perfect specimen of manliness.” Flexing his arms, Mark straddled Wagner in a triumphant pose.

“Get off, you _Arschloch_ ,” Wagner could barely get out between his laughs.

Jealously welled up in Lance. He barely resisted kicking them both but instead impatiently burst out, “Are we going to fucking go or what?”

His rude interruption cut off their laughter.

“Don’t be such a prick, Lance,” Mark said as he stood up off of Wagner and proceeded to help him up. Lance seethed but didn’t say anything.

When they got to the vault, Wagner launched in to some explanation with some interjections made by Mark. Lance wasn’t listening, though. He was still fuming that his time was being tainted by Wagner. Wagner was already creating a rift between him and Mark, and he wanted some type of revenge.

“Before he gives it a go, why don’t you show him something cool? Show him what can be done,” Mark suggested.

“ _Ja, klingt gut_.” Wagner walked a ways down the mat, creating a good amount of space between him and the vault.

“You’ll want to watch this. It’s very impressive.”

Lance, though, didn’t care. He wanted Wagner to suffer, and he knew the perfect way.

As Wagner ran down the run and just as he hit off the springboard and onto the vault, Lance released a tremor that reverberated across the mats.

Beside him, Mark made a surprised noise and was barely able to maintain his balance. The quake lasted all of a second, but it was enough to cause Wagner to botch his vault. Lance watched in satisfaction as Wagner incompleted his rotation and skidded with a harsh thud on his knees.

“Not so good now,” Lance mumbled.

“Kurt!” Mark shouted as he rushed over to Wagner, barely skidding to a stop before crouching down beside him. “Hey, are you okay?” Lance followed at slower pace, unsuccessfully suppressing a smirk.

“Yeah,” Wagner nodded before slowly stretching out his legs to examine any damage. His pants were slightly torn, and blood was sluggishly seeping from the abrasions.

“We should get those cleaned out,” Mark suggested as he offered a hand to help Wagner up. “Crazy, though, right? An earthquake here? Are we even near any fault lines?”

“ _Ja,_ strange,” Wagner said with a gelid glare towards Lance. Lance returned the look with a challenging one of his own. It’s not like Wagner could blame him in front of Mark for causing the earthquake without looking crazy.

A painful yell from across the gym broke their staring contest.

“Stop trying to move it!”

With exchanged looks, the three hurried over to the high bar where the rest of the team had gathered in a small circle around Miguel and Reese. As Lance got closer, he could only see the top of Miguel’s fauxhawk as he hunched over, clutching his wrist close to his chest.

“Sorry. I just wanted to see how bad it was,” Reese apologized. He sat back on his haunches, unsure of what to do next.

“I know. It just hurts,” Miguel’s voice was strained and as he sat back to address Reese, Lance could see that same pain mirrored across his face.

As Lance stared down at Miguel, a deep feeling swelled within his chest. Miguel was in a few of his classes and had always seemed like a pretty cool guy. They’d done some group work together, and he had always made sure to include Lance in the conversation. Since joining the team, Miguel had offered some pointers on the pommel horse and been overall pretty kind to him.

“Well the nurse isn’t on campus anymore. Maybe you oughta go to the hospital?” Jose suggested as he knelt down next to Miguel and Reese.

“I dunno if he’s hurt bad enough for a hospital,” Reese said.

“Hey, Kurt, you’re bleeding.” Jose pointed out the blood on Wagner’s knee that now had created a small stream of lines flowing down his pant leg.

“Yeah, it’s just a small wound.” Kurt dismissed Jose’s concern and refocused attention back to Miguel. “What do you think, Miguel? Do you want to go to the hospital?”

Whatever Miguel was going to say was interrupted by Trey running up to the group with a concerned Coach Trieg.

“Move aside. Let me see.” Trieg knelt down beside Miguel and slowly coaxed him into letting him inspect his wrist. Miguel moaned in pain as Coach Trieg gently rotated his wrist. “Hmm. Maybe a sprain. Could be a fracture. You need to get this examined. Reese, help him to my office and we can call your parents.”

There were some reassuring pats on Miguel’s back as he was led away by Reese and shortly after the circle broke up. Lance heard a few comments on the bizarre short earthquake that precipitated Miguel’s fall, but of course no one could connect it to him.

“Hey, let’s go get you cleaned up,” Mark addressed Wagner. “Go sit on that bench while I find some alcohol and bandages.” Mark ran off to Trieg’s office where the first aid kit was kept, leaving Lance and Wagner alone.

Wagner looked over to Lance, his visage darkened with fury. Lance took a step back, never having seen him so threatening and pissed off before.

“Lance, _Fick dich ins Knie, du Arschloch_.” With that Wagner walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * klingt gut – Sounds good  
> * Fick dich ins Knie, du Arschloch - Go fuck yourself, Asshole 
> 
> If any of the German is wrong or sounds strange, just give me a PM with the accurate words and I’ll fix it up. Thanks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There's a bit of creepy touch and grooming (the grooming associated with sexual predators) in this chapter.

** Wobbly Recovery **

Lance lay flat on his back, staring idly up at the grey, peeling ceiling. His cluttered bedroom with its pile of laundry strewn on the floor and the muffled sound of the TV coming from the living room faded into the background as he kept running through last week’s mishap in his head.

He couldn’t seem to erase Miguel’s pained expression, his mouth torn into a grimace as he clutched his wrist. Even Wagner’s raggedly torn knees would accompany Miguel’s wretched form. For some reason, Wagner’s parting insult - that Lance couldn’t exactly translate but could take his best guess - lingered in his mind. It’s not like he hadn’t been insulted and cussed at before, but from Wagner, it was just so strange. After having spent the past week stewing about it, Lance could finally admit to himself it was all because he felt guilty.

Miguel had a fractured wrist because of him and was out for the rest of the year. Even though Miguel could no longer do any of the apparatuses, he still came to practice. Having to see him and hear everyone’s sympathy to Miguel just weighed upon Lance. It was like trying to climb out of a pool in his clothes.

As for Wagner, if Lance thought he was cold to him before, he was downright icy now. He’d still hang around him and Mark like Mark requested, but he was so terse with Lance, only explaining an apparatus without even looking his way. It made Lance’s guilt over his impulsive reaction compoundeven more. He was actually kind of hurt when Wagner would goof with Mark who Lance realized actually liked Wagner’s stupid jokes. He just tried to hide it under a stalwart veneer. It pissed Lance off and he didn’t know why. He had originally thought it was because he thought Mark would abandon him, but obviously that wasn’t the type of guy Mark w as.

“Yo, Lance, come out here and watch this shit. It’s fucking hilarious!” Toad’s voice came right outside the door.

“Fuck off,” Lance yelled, throwing a pillow. The pillow made a soft plop against the wall beside door before joining a growing pile of dirty shirts and jeans.

“Whatever, jerkoff.”

Lance rolled away from the door, the bed squeaking in protest at his shifting weight. He didn’t want to be bothered now, especially not by his annoying ass teammates.

Lance took his other pillow and bunched it up under his arms. He needed something to get this weight off of his conscience, and he couldn’t figure out what that something was. He just knew it was all Wagner’s fault. He just wanted their relationship to go back to the way it was, a mutual dislike. Not this cold treatment that made Lance curl up on his bed in doubt.

Fucking Christ, here he was trying to be a good, upright citizen and he couldn’t even do that right. As these thoughts and images niggled his brain, Lance stared at the wall. It would be several hours still before he could drift off to sleep.

 

“Alright, spill.” Mark said as he jumped down from the rings.

“What?”

“I was showing you how to do a handstand on the rings, and you just kept staring off into space. All practice, you’ve been distracted. It’s you and Kurt.”

“What? No, I-”

“Shut up.” Sometimes Lance appreciated Mark’s brusqueness. This was not one of those times. “Kurt’s been pretty cold to you and that’s not like him. I asked him why and he just said you’d pissed him off, but he wouldn’t tell me why. Obviously, you’re upset about this. You’ve been like this the past two weeks.”

Lance started to deny Mark’s accurate observations, but then figured maybe he should come clean. Or as clean as he could to Mark. Maybe Mark could help him get over these stupid feelings. Sighing resignedly, Lance picked up a towel and threw it towards Mark. “I did something pretty shitty and Wagner’s the only one who knows what I did.”

“Tell me.” Mark caught the towel and began wiping his forehead. Once finished, he threw it back down beside the rings and began stretching out his arms.

“No.”

Mark didn’t seem to be affronted by Lance’s frank response. Instead, he just continued to stretch, patiently waiting for Lance to continue.

“He probably has every right to be pissy at me. I fucked up.”

“Apologize to him.”

“W-What? No way.”

“You said you fucked up, right? Do you want to fix your relationship?”

“Wagner and I don’t have a ‘relationship’ of any sort. We hate each other.”

“No, before you guys just didn’t like each other. Were rivals or some stupid shit like that. Pretty idiotic if you ask me.”

Lance sighed. It was hard to be made at Mark when he was just so forthright in his opinion. He wasn’t sure if he agreed with Mark that he and Wagner ‘just didn’t like each other,’ but he was right that their relationship had deteriorated. Lance wanted Mark’s respect and he didn’t know what he wanted from Wagner. It was confusing. He’d promise himself over the summer to turn himself around. Maybe this was just all part of that really painful – Lance glanced over at Wagner – really really _really_ onerous process.

“Start off easy. Go over and ask him to help you out on this.” Mark gestured to the large, intimidating expanse of floor that had been taped off into a giant performing area.

“I’m not apologizing to him.”

“I didn’t say to do that yet. Just ask him for help.”

Lance stared at Mark, trying to outwait him and hoping Mark would just give in. But Mark wasn’t a pushover. He resolutely stared back.

“Fine!” Lance threw his hands in the air. “I’ll go ask Wagner.”

Lance missed Mark’s triumphant smile as he stormed off.

 

Kurt leaned down over his legs that were spread out in a V-position and touched both of his feet.

“Man, I can’t believe Ms. Oswel wouldn’t give me a pass on my geometry test.” Miguel imitated Kurt, carefully making sure his right-hand embraced in a cast didn’t jar against his foot as he stretched. “I mean hello, hand broken here.”

“I think if we came in, threw up all over her desk and the tests, and then someone opened the window to get rid of the smell of the vomit and all the puke-covered tests blew out, she’d still find a way for us to take a test.”

“That is oddly specific. You think about this often?”

Kurt grinned. “Maybe.” He switched to leaning down completely in between his legs, keeping aware of whatever moves he did, that Miguel wouldn’t have to rely on his hand to execute them.

Not being able to bend as far as Kurt, Miguel tried his best while still keeping up with the conversation. “You’d think something like an earthquake would change her mind. Even if it was just a small tremor. The Not So Big Quake – Not Even Letting Me Miss My Geometry Test.”

Kurt laughed and sat up. “The Quake of Small Proportions – Survived by the Skin of My Knees.”

“The Tiny Tremor – Felt By Few, Injured Two.”

“That’s pretty good. The Brief Shudder – Shaken, Not Stirred.”

The two joked back and forth until Kurt spied Lance approaching them. His laughter trailed off as he wondered why Lance would even deign to be in his presence. True, he had been helping him out, but mostly in deference to Mark and to keep Coach Trieg off his back. It was one thing to use their powers against each other in battle or even when having a row at school. But it was different this time. They were on the same team, and Kurt was only trying to help him. And having his powers hurt a teammate - that was beyond the pale.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Miguel returned the greeting.

Kurt continued to stretch in silence, guessing that Lance just wanted to check up on Miguel. Lance had been going out of his way to help Miguel, so at least it seemed that Lance regretted hurting him.

“How’s the hand?” Lance asked.

“It’s ok. Not hurting or anything. Just glad that Kurt’s here to keep me company. I can’t do much but stretch and lift weights with my left hand. I’ll just do all the apparatuses one-handed. That should impress the judges.”

“Actually, I came over to see if I could borrow Wagner.” Lance made a face that looked like he had sucked on too many Warheads before continuing. “I need his help on the floor.”

Kurt stopped stretching, surprised at Lance’s request. Lance wasn’t looking at him, as if embarrassed at lowering himself in asking for his help.

It’s not like Kurt was in a position to refuse in front of Miguel. Besides, he was still keeping his promise to Mark. He just couldn’t believe that Lance was the one coming over to sort of ask him for assistance.

“Um, ok. I’ll catch you later then, Miguel.”

“Yeah, come back anytime. I’ll be here.” Miguel laughed and waved them off.

They walked over to the floor area where Mark was standing, his blonde hair ruffled a bit by the A/C which blew particularly strong over this section of the gym.

Kurt snuck a few glances at Lance who seemed to be trying to do his best to face forward and pretend that he hadn’t just asked Kurt for help. Shrugging off Lance’s strange attitude, Kurt smiled and greeted Mark even though he knew he probably wouldn’t get a response back.

“Hey.”

“I suck at this. You should teach Lance.”

No greeting back, but Kurt was used to it from Mark. It was kind of Mark’s shtick and was slightly endearing.

So for the next half hour, Kurt helped Lance out on the floor. He mostly had him working on basic skills and drills that would be the essential foundation for a strong floor routine.

“Show me your handstand.” Kurt dropped all niceties around Lance, just dishing out orders and criticism. He didn’t really feel like Lance deserved to be treated as anything more than an unpleasant chore.

Lance rolled his eyes but went into a handstand.

“It needs to be straighter. You should be able to see your toes.”

Lance straightened up, wobbling a bit as he reset his hands.

“Stretch more.”

“I am,” Lance growled out.

Kurt thought Lance’s handstand now looked pretty good but passed on offering a compliment. “Now see how long you can hold that.”

“How about we have a contest?” Mark walked up next to Kurt, admiring Lance’s handstand. “Let’s see who can hold their handstand the longest.”

“What? Hey, that’s kinda unfair here,” Lance protested as he did his best not to teeter over.

“Sounds good.” Kurt wouldn’t mind showing Lance up.

“Let me go first and you correct my handstand.” Mark assumed the upside-down position, letting Kurt give pointers to fix it. Kurt admired his handiwork at the two mostly perfect handstands in front of him.

“Come on, Wagner. You’re just cheating.”

Kurt ignored Lance but joined them in their game. He was sure they made some weird sight, all three of them upside down in a circle. “I bet everyone thinks we’ve all lost our minds. We probably look like we’re performing some bizarre ritual.”

“Ha, yeah.” Mark agreed. “Like we’re about to summon the demon of gymnastics.”

Kurt had to suppress a smile at that. Wouldn’t Mark be surprised to know that a demon-lookalike was doing a handstand right next to him.

After a bit, Mark started weaving before crashing down onto the mat. “I’m out. All the blood has gone to my head.”

Kurt looked at Lance, who looked probably just as silly as him with his hair trailing over the mat.

“I’m not about to give in to you, Wagner.” Lance, though, was wobbling more and more and his arms were shaking with exhaustion.

Kurt knew he had it in the bag. That is until his inducer let out a pathetic beep. He looked over to his wrist and saw that the battery level was running dangerously low. Kurt frowned, frustrated because he had just charged this one this morning. It probably needed to have its battery completely replaced. Luckily, he kept an extra one in his locker for emergencies like these.

He looked over at Lance, who was looking at him oddly. Well, he didn’t have a choice but to let him win. Rolling down from his handstand, he said, “Lance wins. I’ll be back in a bit.” Not waiting for Mark’s response, he ran off to his locker.

 

 

After Wagner left, Lance collapsed onto the ground. If Wagner’s watch hadn’t beeped, he’d probably be sprawled out under a triumphant furball. It was funny. He hadn’t seen Wagner in so long without his false image, he’d almost forgotten.

“That was weird,” Mark commented, looking after where Wagner ran off.

“Yeah, probably had to piss or something.” For whatever reason, him and the rest of the Brotherhood had never taken striders to reveal Wagner, and he wasn’t going to start now.

Mark shrugged and hauled Lance up to his feet then slapped him on the back.

“See, that wasn’t too hard.”

“I felt like I was going to collapse any second.”

“Not the handstand. Getting Kurt to help you.”

“What was the point? It’s not like he acted any different.” Lance shook his head, trying to get the blood flowing in the right direction.

“You went over to him. Showed him you valued his opinion.”

Rolling his shoulders, Lance sighed in disbelief. “How the hell do you come up with all this shit?”

“My parents are psychologists. I talk to them about you and Kurt,” Mark said matter of factly as if this was normal.

Lance wanted to burrow under the mats. How embarrassing to have his friend talk to his psychologist parents about his problems. But why look a gift horse in the mouth when he could possibly get some insight into his feelings that he himself was having trouble understanding.

“Then tell me, why do your parents think I should go through all this trouble to make up with someone I don’t even like?”

“That’s for you to figure out,” Mark said enigmatically.

“Seriously.” Of all the times for Mark to get cryptic. Lance shook his head and laughed. “Of course that’s what you’d say.”

“Next step, apology.”

“Ok. Not funny anymore. Why the fuck should I apologize?”

Mark headed over to where their water bottles lay and tossed Lance his. He took a long drink before answering Lance. “You did something wrong, right?”

“To someone I fucking hate.”Lance squeezed his bottle tightly, causing a bit of water to seep over the top.

“Fine.” Mark seemed angry at Lance’s declaration. “You hate Wagner. Why?”

Lance stuttered a second. He had never really had to put his feelings into words. “We have different opinions.”

“I guarantee we don’t agree on everything.”

“This isn’t like over what’s the best movie or some stupid shit. It’s big.”

Mark sat walked over to a bench and sat down. He gestured for Lance to do the same, but Lance was too riled up to sit.

“Basically he thinks everyone should be all equal and play nice, and I think some people are just better than others. And some people are just assholes that need punching.”

“Fuck, I don’t even agree with you on that. Except the part about assholes. They always need a good dickpunch. Are you gonna hate me now too?”

Lance grew frustrated. He couldn’t fully explain how Wagner and he were on different opposing sides on the mutant issue. To most of the populace, mutants didn’t even exist. “No but it’s Wagner. You don’t understand.”

“Ok, fine. Then what else about him.” Mark put the bottle down a bit harshly, aggravated at seemingly getting nowhere in their conversation.

“We fight. Outside of school.”  
Mark looked incredulous at him. “You guys go and pick fights with each other on the weekends?”

“No, not exactly.” Lance sat down next to Mark, growing tired of trying to explain without really explaining out all. “I mean we haven’t fought in awhile. Man, in almost,” Lance thought back in his head. Wasn’t it last May the Brotherhood and the X-men had some altercation? “I guess at least six months ago.”

“And you two would set up a time and fight each other. That’s so …” Mark couldn’t even imagine Wagner doing that. It seemed so out of character.

“Well no, not exactly. It’s hard to explain, ok. I wasn’t exactly going to fight Wagner. It was more of a clashing of ideas thing again.”

“So you fought but it wasn’t exactly against him and you haven’t for awhile.”

“Um, yeah. I guess.”

“ So what’s the big deal?”

Lance stared at Mark, stumped to answer his question. It’d had just always been like this. All the Brotherhood hated all the X-men and vice versa. What else was there to say? Did he hate Wagner or did he just hate him on principal that he was an X-man? Lance stared off into space, trying to think of any other reasons he could claim for hating Wagner. None really came to mind.

“Fine, I don’t hate Wagner. I just dislike him. A lot.”

“Progress!” Mark slapped Lance on the back again. “Now go apologize.”

Lance growled in frustration, already imagining how that conversation was going to go. “Fine. I’ll do it, but I want to be alone. Don’t need you hovering while I make an ass of myself.”

“I’ve seen that plenty of times already.”

 

Lance had finished changing into his street clothes, but didn’t leave just yet. He was resolute in his actions even though it was going to be a pain in the ass. For the rest of practice, Lance couldn’t keep his eyes off the clock. He had hoped Wagner had needed to go home, but it seemed he’d found a charged inducer. Now he was stuck, waiting around to implement Mark’s stupid plan.

Seeing that Wagner was also almost ready to go, he headed over to him, hoping to have a private conversation after everyone left the locker room.

“Hey, Wagner. Can you stay a second? I want to talk with you.”

Wagner closed his locker and studied Lance’s features. Whatever it was that he saw, he set his stuff down and said, “Fine.” He sat down on the bench and crossed his arms.

Lance didn’t want to stand around like an idiot, so he stepped over the bench and sat across from Wagner. It was oddly reminiscent of his first day on the team.

They sat in silence, trying not to look at each other. Only the hurried packing of their other teammates served as background noise. It didn’t take long for the room to clear thanks to the widespread knowledge of their increasing volatile relationship.

Once they were alone, the silence lingered for a bit more. Lance had no idea how to start.

“Well?”

Lance sighed. He readied himself to take the plunge. “Look Wagner.” He paused and thought about what other advice Mark had given him. He’d suggested addressing Wagner by his first name to try and bridge some mental barrier Lance had erected or whatever psychologist mumbo jumbo Mark parroted from his parents. If he was really going to do this, he might as well go all in. “Ok, Kurt.”

Wagner didn’t respond to that except with a raised eyebrow.

“Right. Fuck this is hard.”

Luckily Wagner, no Kurt now Lance mentally corrected himself, was willing to be patient and waited for Lance to collect his thoughts.

“Look, I’m really sorry about what I did a few weeks ago. It was stupid, and I was just really angry, and –”

“Someone got hurt, Lance. It wasn’t just some stupid thing, but really dangerous and cruel.”

“I know!” Lance stood up and threw his hands in the air. “I know. Fucking Christ. I fucked up. There I said it. You happy? But I’m trying to make up for it now.”

“How?”

“I’m apologizing, aren’t I?”

“So? Anyone can say sorry. How do I know you won’t do it again?”

“Because I won’t!” Why couldn’t Wagner- Kurt-whatever, just let it go? Did he have to make this so fucking difficult? “What the hell do you want? A box of chocolates and an apology letter?”

Now Kurt was on his feet, gesticulating with an angry sweep of his hand. “How about some actual contrition.”

“I am contrite. I’m so contrite I’m apologizing to _you_! And Jesus Christ, contrition? Is that like your word of the day?”

“Hey, hey! What’s going on in here?” Trieg stormed in, an exasperated expression on his face until his eyes lit upon Kurt. He seemed to soften his glare and came to stand beside him. Lance was disgusted. “Ok, tell me what’s going on here.”

“Nothing, Coach. Just a small tiff,” Kurt replied as calmly as he could, but Lance spotted his tail flash briefly into existence before it angrily lashed back under the effect of the inducer.

Lance tried to pass a warning off to Kurt with a telltale stare at him and then towards where he saw his tail.

He didn’t know if Kurt received his message, but Kurt seemed to adjust his stance, and Lance didn’t see his tail again.

Unaware of their silent communication, Trieg reproached, “Didn’t sound small to me.”

Lance crossed his arms defensively, ready to be ratted out by Kurt as some instigator.

Kurt just shrugged in response to Trieg. “It was nothing. Just over something stupid.”

Trieg was obviously not convinced but let it slide. Probably in deference to his favorite student, Lance snidely thought.

“So you two really don’t get along, huh. I don’t want this infighting on my team, now do I. Alright then. Kurt, you don’t need to help out Alvers anymore. Mark can take over those duties. Unless it would be better just to have Alvers off the team?”

Kurt seemed a bit taken aback at the question posed towards him from Trieg. Lance couldn’t believe his fate was being left to him. He was so going to kick his ass if he…

“No, no. Lance should stay.” Kurt snuck a glance towards him before looking back at Coach. “He’s a good asset for the team.”

“You’re right, he is. But are you two going to be able to at least be civil towards each other?”

“ _Ja._ ”

Lance curtly nodded.

“Alright. I’ll leave it in your hands. I better not hear of any more fighting.” Trieg bent down and picked up Kurt’s bag.

“Come on, I’ll take you home, Kurt.”

Lance stared after them, baffled at Kurt’s unexpected magnanimity.

 

During the car ride, Trieg expressed his regret at making Kurt be Lance’s mentor. Kurt let him prattle on, his thoughts mostly drifting back to Lance apologizing. Coming from Lance, that was a big thing. And even though it could’ve gone better, just the fact that Lance took steps to apologize blew his mind. He shouldn’t have been so dismissive, but he was still pretty pissed with Lance. Still, Lance had extended the olive branch, though it might’ve been slightly on fire and smoking, Kurt could at least meet him halfway. Maybe next Monday when they had practice again he could show Lance that he’d be willing to put aside their differences.

The car slowing down to a stop right outside the mansion drew Kurt out of his thoughts.

“I hope you’ll think about what I said.”

Kurt nodded, not having any idea what Coach was talking about.

“Thanks for the ride,” Kurt said as he twisted around to reach back for his bag.

“Hey.” Trieg put his hand on Kurt’s side as he was mid-stretch towards the back. Kurt’s heart began to race; but otherwise, he didn’t know how to react to that, so he just continued to fish for his bagpack. Trieg didn’t continue whatever it was he was going to say, which made it even more awkward as Kurt rummaged around.

Once having found his bag, he turned back around and looked over to Trieg. He wanted more than anything to bolt out of the car, but didn’t think that would be appropriate. Trieg was his coach and did seem to genuinely like him. It was just weird, sitting in his car outside the mansion. Since it was already late fall, the sun had already set. The moon was bright and as it shone through the branches, it cast strange shadows onto Trieg’s face. Trieg stared at him, one blue eye lit in moonlight while the other was hidden in shadow. Kurt began to fidget with the handles of his bagpack.

Trieg finally moved his hand only to place it on the side of Kurt’s head, through his hair. Kurt nervously twitched, hoping that Trieg didn’t notice his fur-covered, pointed ear, but Trieg didn’t say a thing about.   
                “I should’ve listened to you, Kurt. I’m sorry for making you and Lance work alongside each other. But I’m proud of you, letting Alvers stay on the team was a tough decision but I think for the best. ”

Kurt imperceptibly nodded and glanced towards the passenger door. It was still locked.

“If you ever need a ride again. I’m always willing.”

Kurt didn’t bring up how he actually didn’t need a ride, that it was Trieg who suggested it. He usually wound up porting several times until he got back to the mansion, but he couldn’t use that excuse on Trieg. Too caged to think of an excuse, Kurt could only respond, “Thanks for the offer.”

Finally, after an eternity, Trieg sat back and unlocked the car door.

Kurt hurriedly gathered his bag and got out of the car.

“See you tomorrow in gym class!” Trieg shouted as he closed the door. The car didn’t drive off, but sat there before the gate. Kurt had to manually enter the code instead of his usual porting straight to his room. He wasn’t able to breathe a sigh of relief until almost the entrance of the mansion when he heard Trieg drive off.

 

 

Lance really didn’t expect to have Wagn-Kurt come up to him and suggest practicing together. He thought for sure after their blowup in the locker room, that Kurt would go back to avoiding him or being cold. For whatever reason, it seemed that Kurt was going to give him a chance.

They stood on the floor routine mats, while Mark was back on the rings, practicing on his own. This time, though, Kurt did more than just order and criticize. He was doling out helpful tips and praise.

“No, that looks strange. Let me show you what I mean.” Stepping back a bit, Kurt executed an aerial.

“I don’t see what I’m doing different.”

“I dunno. Yours looks just strange.” Kurt shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe if you saw a video of yourself….”

Lance wasn’t thinking about doing his aerial correctly anymore. So far, practice had actually been nice without the constant icy glares and clipped remarks. It seemed that Mark was right, and he didn’t actually hate Kurt. He was no longer the worst thing to be around, but he was still towards the bottom of his list. Still, when Lance looked over to Mark, he couldn’t help but feel like he would be disappointed in his lame apology. He’d probably want Lance to redo it, to really make amends.

“Hey, are you listening?”

“Look, I am really sorry. I didn’t want Miguel to get hurt. I was just really pissed off and decided to, I dunno, fuck with you,” Lance said in a rush, figuring his apology –his _real_ apology - could be like a Band-Aid, ripped off and done in one go.

“Ok,” Kurt drew out the okay, wondering where this train of thought had come from. “But I don’t understand why you were angry. I was helping you. And we haven’t fought in _months._ ”

Lance shrugged. He didn’t want to admit that he was jealous of him and Mark’s camaraderie. “Old habits?”

 

Kurt didn’t believe him but let it slide. It’s not like he expected Lance to reveal his true feelings now that they were on speaking terms.

“I _am_ sorry for what happened to Miguel. I didn’t want him to get hurt.”  
                Kurt took that to mean it would’ve been all okay if he had been the one more gravely injured. But what did he expect. They weren’t friends, and Lance probably still hated him. At least he knew that Lance wasn’t a total jerk to everyone. Mostly just to him. “So are you looking for me to tell you that you’re forgiven?”

“I guess.”

Kurt looked over to Miguel who was picking up a weight to do some lifts. He sighed. Lance at least seemed apologetic for his actions inadvertently hurting Miguel. “Look, Miguel is really nice. I’m sure even if he knew it was you, he’d probably forgive you knowing it was an accident.”

Lance looked relieved.

Kurt turned away, figuring that’s all that Lance wanted from him. “Did you need any more help on-”

Kurt was surprised when Lance pulled him back around.

A tight expression painted across his face, Lance looked like he had stepped on a Lego. “And I’m sorry. To you. I was stupid and rash.” Lance looked around furtively as if afraid someone would overhear him. “I don’t hate you or anything and I don’t want to injure you. Except you know, if you’re going against the Brotherhood. Then that’s okay.”

A bit taken aback by Lance’s blunt apology, Kurt stared at Lance dumbfounded. “I, um, don’t hate you either?” Kurt really didn’t know what to say. He thought about how Lance had tried to warn him about his tail in the locker room even though they were in the middle of a big fight. Maybe Lance wasn’t so terrible. “And I guess I forgive you too.”

“Good.” Lance rethought that. “That is, thanks. I’m not asking to be friends or anything like that.” Lance and Kurt both scoffed at that idea. “Just to, I dunno, treat me like a teammate. I want to be part of this team.”

“So if I’m nice to you, you’re nice to me and vice versa?”

“Yeah, that’s the idea.”

“I can live with that.”

They stood there awkwardly a few seconds before Kurt gestured back to the floor. “So do you still need help?”

“Yeah, show me your aerial again.”

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

*So all that handstand stuff I got from <http://www.drillsandskills.com/skills/floor/>.

*So now Lance will be calling and thinking of Kurt as Kurt instead of Wagner, which will make my life that much easier.

 

Thanks for reading, and please take the time to like or review.

 

%MCEPASTEBIN%


	4. Aggressive Maneuvers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: More inappropriate advances. And one crude joke that I couldn't resist.

 

** Chapter 4: Aggressive Maneuvers  **

Lance was feeling good. He was improving as a gymnast, finally getting down most of the basics and moving on to practicing some real skills. Moreover, the tension of the past month had finally dissipated with things settling down on the team since he and Kurt had sort of made up. They weren’t friends. It was just too weird to think of friend and Kurt in the same sentence. Still, they were civil to each other, and with Mark acting as a buffer, it sometimes just felt natural to hang out together. Lance didn’t know what to think of Kurt anymore. Watching him and Mark goof around actually made Lance want to join in on the fun. But when it was just the two of them without Mark, it became awkward – full of silence or conversations that quickly petered out. Lance didn’t know about Kurt, but he was wary of saying anything that would break their fragile truce.

Currently, Lance was waiting at the floor apparatus for Mark to go retrieve Kurt from the parallel bars where he was just finishing up practicing a routine. For whatever reason, the floor was his and Mark’s biggest struggle; but fortunately, it was probably Kurt’s best apparatus.

After almost an hour of pointers and demonstrations from Kurt and more than a few imperfect tumbling passes, Lance was about ready to just quit.

“Argh, fuck this stupid thing.” He kicked at the mat, resulting in a now stubbed toe, before collapsing onto his back with a thud.

“Hey, it’s not that bad.” Kurt leaned over him, looking in amusement at his antics.

“No, Lance is right. It’s bad.” Mark joined Lance on the mat, a resounding thump accompanying his fall.

Kurt sat down beside them cross-legged. “You guys are just weak,” His light tone belied his words as he leaned his elbow on his knee.

“I will get up and punch you,” Mark said but remained unmoving in his sprawled position.

“Why don’t we talk about something else for a bit? Get your mind off your big, flat, squishy, blue nemesis.”

“I thought we were talking about the floor, not y–” Lance stopped himself just before he said you. That would’ve been a weird slip of the tongue to explain to Mark.

“Not what?” Mark inquired, leaning up on his elbows to look over at Lance.

Lance saw Kurt’s expression change from disconcerted to confused. He saw him mouth the word ‘squishy?’ to which Lance just shrugged. It was going to be a stupid quip anyway.

“Not what?” Mark repeated.

“Nothing.” Lance scrambled in his mind to think of a different topic to distract Mark. “But hey, you see the new horror movie out? _Jackhammer 3: The Crumbling_?”

Luckily, Mark seemed to let it go and lay back down on the floor. “No. I don’t like horror.”

“What? Really? But it’s so great.”

“ _Ja,_ it was awesome. You should totally go see it.” Kurt leaned forward, eager to recount the horrors that was _Jackhammer_. “There’s this part with an eyeball. This dude’s face is all-” Seeing Mark’s discomfort, he cut himself off from giving a blow-by-blow. “It’s so bloody and gross.”

Mark gave another squeamish look, which Lance ignored. “Ha yeah, that was great. And this girl. Man, she totally gets jackhammered to death straight up in her –”

“Stop. Stop.” Mark sat up completely, waving off any more graphic descriptions of death by jackhammer.

“Sorry. It’s pretty graphic so you probably wouldn’t like it,” Kurt said.

“Ugh, no. Gore just makes me feel sick.” Mark stood up and turned around to regard the other two still reclined out. “Can’t we just get back to what we’re supposed to be working on?” He gestured towards the floor area.

“Sure. Sure.” Lance stretched on the floor before standing up alongside Mark. “So what’s next?”

“How about we do just a simple tumbling pass?” Kurt stood and walked over to the corner of the mat to demonstrate what it should look like. “It’s just a dive roll, front walkover, cartwheel, cartwheel, back walkover, and ends with a back extension roll. I’ll do it slowly, ok?”*

When Kurt executed it, it looked simple and easy. But when Lance tried to imitate Kurt, he wound up flat on his back on the floor.

Mark and Kurt peered at him from above.

“You okay?” Kurt asked.

“Yeah, this is all part of my routine. A tribute to _Jackhammer: The Crumbling._ ” Lance began writhing on the floor, imitating as if he had a jackhammer driving at his stomach.

Kurt couldn’t help but laugh out loud at Lance’s inane movements. Lance began making even bigger, dramatic movements along with painful noises. Soon, Mark was joining in with Kurt.

“I can hear the judges now. ‘A perfect ten! Never have we seen such a riveting performance,’” Kurt joked, waving his hand out like he was an announcing the newest act on stage.

Lance suddenly stopped when he saw Trieg come up behind Kurt and place his hand on his shoulder.

“I need to talk with you,” Trieg said authoritatively, not even looking over at Lance or Mark.

“Um, ok.”

“In my office. _Now._ ” Trieg’s voice brooked no argument. He walked off, assured that Kurt would follow him.

“Do you know what he wants?” Mark asked. “He didn’t sound too pleased.”

Kurt just shook his head. “I dunno. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Lance watched Kurt run off before looking questioningly at Mark, who just shrugged.

 

 

Trieg’s office was slightly dim, the blinds having been drawn to and the overhead light flickered in need of a replacement. Kurt slightly jumped at the sound of the door clicking close, on edge with thoughts of the time in the car racing through his mind.

“Take a seat.” Trieg practically pushed Kurt into one of the chairs that faced Trieg’s desk. The chair, hard and covered in a grey plastic, was uncomfortable as he fell into it. Trieg didn’t sit behind his desk, but instead stood right in front of Kurt. He leaned his back against the front of his desk with his knees lightly brushing Kurt’s. The desk slightly groaned under Trieg’s weight.

Trieg didn’t say anything at first, but just stared at him a bit, causing Kurt to squirm in his chair.

No longer standing the silence, Kurt began but Trieg cut him off. “Is there anything-”

“Are you doing this just to spite me?”

“W-What?”

“You and Alvers. I see you two have become close suddenly. So are you doing this just to spite me?”

Kurt was so confused. Not sure why Coach Trieg would even think that. “No, of course no-”

“Because I really don’t appreciate that. I thought I’d do good by you and let you off the hook on helping Alvers. And then you just threw it back in my face.”

“It really wasn’t anything like-” Kurt tried denying but Trieg wouldn’t let him get a word in edgewise.

“I like to think I look out for you. Can be someone you can rely on. But you have to be willing to listen to me.” Trieg leaned forward and put a hand on Kurt’s shoulder. “But you haven’t been recently.”

Trieg was so close now, Kurt could practically smell what he ate for lunch. “I really didn’t mean to. Lance and I just sort of made up.”

Trieg shook his head. “Actions speak louder than words. You say you didn’t mean to but your actions speak differently. I listened to you, realized my mistake, and even apologized and let you out of our responsibility. And what did you do? Just went right ahead and did everything you could to oppose me. And in that, did you ever think of my feelings? Of how I must feel for you to go against everything I said?”

Kurt just shook his head, a slight surge of guilt rising up.

“Even after I told you how important it was to listen to me. Remember that talk? Remember how I showed you. Mentored you to make the right choices. Well, you won’t if you refuse to listen.”

Kurt just sat there, not knowing what to say.

Trieg sighed and shifted to kneel down in front of him. “You’re a good guy, but sometimes you’re just so inconsiderate. That’s why you have to listen to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt said dejectedly. He looked down, not wanting to see Trieg’s disappointment.

“Remember, I even let you decide whether Alvers remained on the team. That was a big decision I entrusted you with. In order for me to feel like I can do that again, you have to trust me in return.”

Trieg shifted back a bit on his knees, giving Kurt hope that he’d back up a bit and give him a bit of space; but instead, Trieg resettled himself a touch closer and moved one of his hands from Kurt’s shoulder to rest high up on his inner thigh. Whatever else Trieg said, Kurt tuned out, feeling highly uncomfortable with the intimate touch. He didn’t know what to do. Was Trieg aware of his hand? Was he doing this on purpose? His athletic pants were thin and tight, and through them, he could feel the heat emanating from each of Trieg’s fingers. He felt the hand begin to trail higher, making him jerk back almost hard enough to knock over the chair.

“Um, Coach, do you think you could?” He glanced down at the hand then back up, hoping to convey his nervousness without insulting Trieg.

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize.”

Trieg took his hand away slowly, letting it trail down Kurt’s leg before removing it completely. He was so nonchalant about it, like it was just a common mistake, that Kurt began to question whether he was the one reading too much into things.

Trieg stood up completely and again leaned back against his desk. Kurt breathed a sigh of relief at having that extra space between them.

“The big Tournament is coming up and I need you at your best. You need to concentrate on yourself and not just on helping out Alvers. You understand?”

Kurt nodded. “ _Ja._ ”

“That means I don’t want to see you around him for awhile.”

Kurt reluctantly agreed. He hadn’t mind hanging around Lance, but Trieg was right. He should start focusing more on his routines.

“I also want you to trust me. I trust you and I’d be hurt if the feeling wasn’t mutual.”

Trieg looked so earnest that Kurt couldn’t help but respond, “I trust you.”

Trieg gave a smile. “I’m glad. Now just prove it. I’m going to be watching. Don’t disappoint me again.” He moved over to the door to let Kurt rejoin practice.

“I won’t.”

 

 

Kurt left the office and headed towards the locker room. He waved to Mark and Lance and tried to smile to show that everything was fine, but in actuality he was torn on the inside. He needed a place to try and get his frayed emotions under control. When he reached the locker room, only strewn bagpacks carelessly left on the floor and lockers hanging open with clothes peeking out greeted him. Ignoring the chaotic mess, he headed towards the back area, past his own woeful locker, to the end of the row. He slowly leaned back against the end - the slight hollow, metal clunk disturbing the air a brief second only to resign to the silence. Sinking down to the ground, he was relatively hidden from view of anyone that walked in.

Resting his arms on his knees, he shakily ran a hand through his hair. His thigh still tingled as if he could still feel the ghost of Trieg’s touch. He wasn’t sure if Trieg had meant to place his hand there or not; but either way, it made him very uncomfortable. He didn’t know what to do. Trieg had apologized but then there was the car ride. That wasn’t normal, right? He sat in silence for a few minutes, just trying to make sense of it all.

Maybe he was reading too much into things. He wasn’t used to people reaching out and touching him. It was probably just all in his head. It’s not like Trieg had tried anything. It could all be explained as mistakes or just Trieg’s natural affinity for demonstrative affection. He was just being an idiot.

Thinking back on their conversation, Trieg was probably right. That was twice Kurt had ignored Trieg’s wishes and it probably hurt the coach. Trieg had always looked out for him, giving him pointers, praise, or leeway. He really was being inconsiderate by taking all the things that Trieg had done for him and throwing them back in his face.

He was just blowing things out of proportion. And Trieg was right. He needed to respect him and listen to him. He really shouldn’t be uncomfortable around Trieg - he was just friendly and Kurt was the one at fault for thinking bad of him. He wouldn’t let Trieg down. Resolving then and there, Kurt decided he would trust Trieg. There was no reason to doubt him.

 

At the next several practices, Kurt, Lance and Mark mostly worked on their own routines, preparing for the tournament coming up that weekend. Lance and Mark were pretty understanding when he told them Trieg wanted him to practice on his own. Of course, he didn’t mention anything else that occurred in the coach’s office. There wasn’t anything to mention.

Surprisingly, Kurt actually felt he missed hanging out with not only Mark, but also Lance. Even though he could be crude, he wasn’t too bad to be around. It kinda made him nervous. With the antagonism gone, where did that put them? And then what will happen when inevitably the X-men ended up fighting the Brotherhood? Kurt didn’t know how he would handle going up against Lance now that he wasn’t just some one-dimensional adversary.

He had to put those thoughts aside and just deal with it whenever it came up. Right now, he had to concentrate on the upcoming tournament.

Jumping up, he grabbed onto the high bar and let muscle memory take control. Gymnastics could be so cleansing - thoughts lifting from his mind as just him and his routine took over.

Unsurprisingly, upon his dismount – a fair landing with just a small hop– he felt a large hand against the small of his back. Trieg had held on to his promise and was constantly watching him and giving out pointers. Kurt did his best at being receptive to Trieg’s touches. He needed to keep his own promise to himself. So whenever Trieg touched his shoulders, legs, or back, he decided it was ok. He needed to prove to Trieg that there was a measure of trust and respect.

“That was great. It’s going to be hard for anyone to match that.” Trieg kindly smiled down at Kurt.

Kurt tried to smile back; but despite his conviction, he still had a hard time relaxing at Trieg’s touch. It was something he’d have to work on. “Um, thanks.”

“You’ve done well. It seems that you really listened to our talk. Makes me proud.” Trieg pulled Kurt in for a hug, his hand trailing near Kurt’s waist before releasing him.

Kurt took a step back to get some needed space, but luckily Trieg was already on his way to the pommel horse to help out Reese.

“I’m so proud of you too,” came a mocking voice from behind. “Let’s all have one big hug.”

Kurt jumped a bit, surprised by Lance’s silent approach. He turned to face Lance, who was standing with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

“Oh shut up.” Kurt bent down to retrieve his water bottle. “He’s just trying to be encouraging.”

“To you.” Lance sneered in Trieg’s direction. He watched Coach shaking his head at Reese - radiating clear disappointment in Reese’s ineptitude on the pommel horse. “He hasn’t even said shit to me in two weeks.”

“Who are you again?” Kurt said sarcastically as he leaned his head back to take a drink of water.

Lance lightly pushed him, causing water to drip all over the sides of his face.

“Hey!” Kurt wasn’t too offended, though, as he could see Lance suppressing a laugh.

“I’m unforgettable. And don’t you forget.”

Kurt laughed as he wiped the water from his face. Surreptitiously, he angled his water bottle towards Lance.

“You know,” Lance began as he turned to look at everyone practicing, “this tournament is going to –”

Whatever Lance was going to say was cut off when a stream of water splashed against the whole side of face and shirt. Kurt stopped squeezing his water bottle and waited as Lance foolishly turned towards him. A look of surprise and indignation was painted across Lance’s face for a brief second before Kurt sprayed him again directly in the face.

“You are so dead. Thus ends the life of one Kurt Wagner.”

“Oh, Coach Trieg. Lance and I were just about to get back to practice,” Kurt did his best to pretend he saw Trieg approaching from behind. Luckily, his ruse worked.

As Lance turned around, Kurt took the time to escape to where Mark was practicing on the parallel bars.

Mark was in the middle of a handstand, his blond hair sweeping a bit from his face. He gave a curious look to Kurt.

“What’s wrong?” Mark asked as he swung out of the handstand to hang from the bars.

“Nothing. Why would anything be wrong? Just eager to practice next.” Kurt tried to smile nonchalantly.

Mark just shrugged and continued with his routine.

Kurt peeked back over his shoulder only to be startled by Lance standing right behind him.

“I am so going to get you back. Just you wait,” Lance threatened but his voice lacked any menace. In fact, Kurt would say he was almost smiling under his poised glare.

Kurt watched Mark alongside Lance, any worries about Trieg scattering to the wind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I got the tumbling sequence from a google search for "easy tumbling passes" on yahoo answers. A very accurate and reliable source.


	5. Chapter 5

Lance was thankful that the tournament had finally come and gone. It was nice to get rid of the jitters that always accompanied a first performance. Like ripping a Band-aid off. He didn’t place or even come close, but it was still pretty fun to show off the bit he had learned and to cheer on the rest of the team.

Training with Mark and Kurt again was also a pretty big plus. Lance never would admit it, but he was actually a bit hurt when Kurt first avoided him during the past week. The resulting explanation of Trieg’s insistence and the tournament helped, but Lance still couldn’t shake his stupid feelings.

Tired of waiting for Mark and Kurt to emerge from the locker room, Lance decided he’d go over to the floor area and practice some new skills. He was having some difficulty with his front handspring. Each time, he was short on his landing, ending up halfway on the ground.

“What new move is this?” Kurt was walking over to Lance, an amused expression crossing his face.

“It’s called the ‘Suck It Flop.’” Lance tried to perform a kick up from his back straight to his feet, but ended up only flopping like a fish on land. He let out a frustrated groan. “This is just not my day.”

Kurt had been fiddling around with his handgrips but dropped them aside to lend a hand to pull Lance up.

“Thanks,” Lance said as he took Kurt’s offered hand. For a second, Lance was slightly taken aback. Whenever Kurt had helped him practice before, he had always had his handgrips on or had just verbally directed him. He guess he’d never really had much physical contact with Kurt outside of one of their fights. It was strange but not in a bad way. Kind of soft. It was more discombobulating to feel fur and yet see skin.

Lance thought about it and realized he was probably the only one on the team that Kurt would help like this without handgrips on. It kinda made him feel special. A fact that would have to be pried from his cold, dead hands.

Kurt helped him out a bit with his front handspring. Guiding Lance slowly through it with his hands strategically placed to show where his body should be. After a few tries with Kurt hovering just in case Lance needed support, Lance felt like he was ready to try again on his own.

“Ok. Back up. I got this.”

It wasn’t the prettiest or the most perfect front handspring, but he landed on his feet.

“Hey, not bad,” Kurt complimented as he bent down to retrieve his handgrips.

“Yeah, thanks. I couldn’t have done it without the most decorated gymnast here.” Lance was pretty impressed at the inducer’s ability to show the rising blush of Kurt’s embarrassment.

“Next time, you’ll probably be winning tons of medals along with everyone else.”

“Maybe.” Lance twisted his back in a stretch to work out the kinks from his workout. “Man, it’s weird, though.”

“What?”

“Feeling your fur but not seeing it.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah. I haven’t seen you without your inducer on in ages. Made me forget that you were a freak.” Lance knew that was the wrong thing to say, but his brain was too slow to stop his mouth.

He could see Kurt just shut down. Pain quickly flittered across his face only to be hidden by anger. “I’ll be sure to avoid touching you in the future so my freakishness doesn’t contaminate you.”

Lance looked down, ashamed at what he said and even moreso at his inability to apologize. He stammered but nothing came out.

Kurt turned to walk away and Lance was ready to let him go, feeling like such an insensitive clod. Mark, however, was already approaching them both, preventing Kurt from leaving. Taking a look at both their faces, he sighed.

“Alright, what happened?”

“Nothing,” Kurt replied.

“Right. That’s why you both look like you’ve just stepped on a Lego.”

They stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, until Lance sighed in resignation. He had messed up and should just admit it. It’d be just like his first tournament. Get it over and done with and they could move on.

Right before he was ready to forge ahead into his apology, Trieg called for everyone to gather around him in the center of the gym near the parallel bars.

Seeing his confusion reflected in Mark’s and Kurt’s faces, Lance shrugged and walked over to Trieg. He noticed that Kurt made sure that Mark was standing between them as they joined the others.

Once the team had gathered around the coach, Trieg made his announcement.

“Sorry that I’m late to practice. Just had to get this approved by the principal.” He held a piece of paper in his hand that meant nothing to Lance. “I’m so proud of all of you. Last weekend, everyone performed amazingly. I couldn’t have asked more from you. Your medals and trophies will be displayed in the cabinet in main hallway.

“Woo!” Jose pumped his fist. He’d placed a solid second on the pommel horse, and had been bragging about showing it off to his girlfriend as soon as he could.

“Woo indeed. To celebrate, I’m going to cut practice short and have us all go out to Tom’s Pizza Bistro. I got it approved so we can get a ton of pizza. You’ll have to talk it out what types to order. Got it?”

“Yeah, thanks Coach!” Trey said. The rest soon followed him with various thanks and signs of appreciation.

“We’ll car pool together, so be sure to grab your stuff first. Since there’s just 10 of us in total, we’ll need no more than 3 cars. I can take 3 people.”

Everyone began turning to each other, some debating who was going to drive and others looking for rides.

“I’ll drive,” Mark said as he turned towards Lance and Kurt. “You two have to tell me what’s going on.”

“Hey, can I ride with you guys?” Miguel popped up next to Lance, looking excited for the excursion out for pizza.

Mark had started to shake his head no, but Kurt cut him off. “Of course. Mark’s driving. If that’s ok?”

“Sure,” Miguel said a little less enthused. He looked warily to Mark, as if afraid his glare was going to rip him to shreds.

Mark nodded gruffly. “Fine. Just don’t mess with the radio.”

As they started towards the locker room to change back into their regular clothes, Lance heard Kurt whisper to Mark about Miguel being a nice guy and to not be so rude. Lance, though, thought Kurt’s rush to have Miguel ride with them might have partially been connected to him.

Lance dragged behind the others, disappointed that he probably wouldn’t be able to apologize until after dinner. It was from this position that he was able to witness Trieg pull Kurt aside – his hand placed low on Kurt’s back - to have some type of hushed conversation. He thought it strange. He wouldn’t like that familiar of a touch from the coach, but he didn’t have the same close relationship with him like Kurt did.

Lance dawdled a bit so that when Kurt pulled away from Trieg, he was able to catch up to him.

“What did he want?” Lance asked casually.

Kurt’s expression didn’t hold any clues for Lance to read, but at least he didn’t completely snub him. “Just to see if I needed a ride.”

“Hey, um.” Lance raised a hand behind his head, a little embarrassed about what he had to say. “About earlier…”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re going to hold up Mark and Miguel if we don’t hurry.” Kurt rushed off to the lockers, leaving Lance standing there like a fool.

“Just couldn’t make this easy on me,” Lance grumbled to himself before running to catch up.

 

 

 Kurt sat in the back of Mark’s car with Miguel. While there was a steady flow of conversation, the car ride still felt awkward. What Lance had said had really hurt. He had begun to see Lance as a friend almost, but if Lance still felt that he was some sort of freak….

He had often wondered what it would be like to reveal himself to what he considered his school friends. Usually his daydreams turned more into day nightmares with lots of screaming, vitriol and violence. But Lance already knew, and it just somehow made it worse.

He could see Mark’s glances back in the rearview mirror as if he could somehow divine the reason behind Lance’s and his turmoil through telepathy. Kurt was very glad Mark was not a mutant.

Mark, however, was a bit of an overly cautious driver and that, paired with their delay to the locker room, put them as the last arrivals. Kurt hopped out quickly, glad to escape the stifling confines of the car.

Tom’s Pizza Bistro had that atmosphere that fit perfectly for groups of high school students wanting a place to hang out late after school. Pictures of enticing pizza hung crooked on the offwhite walls. The carpeted floor was caked from years of dropped food and foot traffic that the original color had all but faded to a dingy red. Booths lined the perimeter of the room while square tables covered in a plastic, checkered table cloth filled the center.

The team had already had a few tables arranged in a long, rectangular formation and all of the middle seats were occupied. Miguel took the spare seat on the end next to Reese, leaving only three seats at the far end available. Two to the right of Coach Trieg and one directly across from those, beside Jose.

Mark moved to sit next to Jose while Lance made a beeline to take the end seat, leaving Kurt stuck right between Trieg and Lance.

This was just not his day.

Sighing, he sat down, expecting some type of pat or comment from Trieg, but he seemed engrossed in conversation with Hudson and Martin. Relieved, doing his best to ignore Lance, Kurt turned his attention to Jose directly across.

“You order yet?”

“Just drinks. Figured we’d wait on you slowpokes.” Jose took a long, slow sip from his Coke. “To the winners goes the soda.”

“Mark here just drives like a grandma,” Lance teased.

“I drive how I want,” Mark said. “If you don’t like, find a different ride.”

“Just saying.” Lance propped open a menu and began perusing the options. The others followed his lead.

“What do you think you want?” Lance directed to Kurt.

Kurt just shrugged his shoulders, doing the minimal to not be completely rude while also snubbing Lance.

Lance scowled and propped his menu higher to provide a partial screen of privacy.

“Come on, I didn’t mean it that way.”

Kurt stared icily back. “Can we just not talk about it.”

“Not when you’re being all pissy.”

“Maybe I’ll stop being pissy when you stop being an asshole.”

Lance’s look was thunderous but the waitress arrived just before things could escalate anymore.

 

After they had placed their order – several cheese, pepperoni and bacon with pineapple pies – and received their drinks, Mark started the conversation back up.

“So I saw _Jackhammer 3._ ”

“What?” Kurt asked incredulously. “I thought you didn’t ever want to see it.”

“Yeah, that you’re too much of a wuss for horror,” Lance added.

Kurt gave Lance a withering look and kicked him under the table. It wasn’t cool to reveal Mark’s weakness in front of Jose. Lance in turn gave a questioning look, but Kurt had already turned back to Mark. He just really wasn’t in the mood to deal with Lance.

“Shelly wanted to see it.”

“Shelly?” Kurt asked.

“You know Shelly. Senior, long, black hair. Big tits,” Jose described with a leer and a crude gesture.

Kurt and Lance both nodded. Of course, everyone knew Shelly, if not by name at least by chest size.

“She has other attributes, you know.” Mark tried to defend.

“Yeah, like what?” Jose retorted.

“She has a nice laugh. Like a chortle. But cute.” Mark smiled slightly.

“And how would you know?”

“She wanted to see _Jackhammer 3_. She thought it was funny. It wasn’t. It was gross.”

“So you’re telling me that you took Shelly of Titular Twin Peaks out on a date?”

Mark shrugged and took a sip of his coke.

Jose shook his head in disbelief. “Too cool, man.”

“Give us all the details,” Lance said.

Whatever Mark was willing to divulge, Kurt missed out because suddenly he felt a hand sliding up over his left leg. He froze and glanced over from the corner of his eyes to look at Trieg. Trieg hadn’t changed positions much. He was still faced mostly towards Reese and Hudson and his facial expression didn’t give away anything that was happening under the table.

The hand rested there for a bit. Kurt looked down at the table cloth, studying the red and white checkered pattern, unsure of what to do. As if taking his inaction as acquiesce, the hand began to slowly caress up and down his inner thigh. The hand would linger along its route, stopping to lightly trace a design before continuing along. Paralysis had taken hold of Kurt. He wanted to desperately teleport out of the situation, but all he could do was hope that Trieg would grow bored or just… stop.

It felt like an eternity, but when the pizza arrived Trieg removed his hand. Kurt mentally breathed a sigh of relief, wanting to do nothing more than take a shower and cleanse himself from Trieg’s touch.

However, his relief didn’t last long. As soon as Trieg had doled the pizza out, he immediately replaced his hand. Now emboldened, he would glide his hand higher along Kurt’s leg. In front of Kurt, the tablecloth had been replaced with a slice of pepperoni pizza. It looked disgusting. Grease formed pools in the stretched-out cheese, which glistened sickingly under the cheap lighting. Any appetite he’d had had been completely eradicated. All that he could concentrate on was Trieg’s touch and a rising, burning shame.

Suddenly, Trieg escalated things when his hand went past his thigh and began stroking his crotch.

Kurt’s breath hitched, almost in disbelief at how far Trieg was willing to carry on right in front of the rest of the teammates, concealed only by the tablecloth. It was enough to spur Kurt into to taking some form of action, however small. He shakily put his hand under the table and grabbed Trieg’s arm over his sleeve to try and remove it from himself.

Trieg, though, wasn’t to be dissuaded. He broke free from Kurt’s light grasp and reversed the situation. He grabbed a hold of Kurt’s wrist just at the end of his sleeve, narrowly avoiding discovering any fur.

Trieg’s hold was tight, and he forced Kurt’s hand closer to him, until he placed it on his own erection that bulged through his pants. Kurt tried to pull away but Trieg’s grip was like a vise. Trieg started moving Kurt’s hand in a rubbing sensation over his erection, slowly at first before picking up pace.

“Hey, you okay? You haven’t touched your pizza or said anything in awhile.” Mark asked Kurt. This was enough to force Trieg to let go. Kurt quickly brought his hand back to his side, trying to suppress the desperate need to throw up.

Kurt shook his head, maybe a bit too vehemently. Trying to hide any shaking in his voice, he replied, “I’m fine. I’ll just be right back.”

There was no way he could’ve stayed and chatted like everything was fine without breaking apart. He wanted nothing more than to just teleport right out but that wasn’t an option. The scraping of his chair seemed inexplicitly loud, and the four sets of eyes watching him leave felt like having daggers tracing down his back.

He headed straight to the bathroom. Tom’s Pizza Bistro had spared all the expense they could on it. The floor was covered in a myriad of dingy, yellowed tiles while the two stalls were that brown-beige that seemed ubiquitous of all subpar bathrooms everywhere. A couple of urinals were the only fixtures gracing the far side of the room while one, cracked basin served as the room’s sink. A glob of bluish gunk stained one side of the sink having slowly dripped like a festering wound from the soap dispenser. There were no paper towels.

Ignoring all of this, Kurt leaned against the sink, head bowed and hands braced on either side as his thoughts reeled in his mind.

All of his rationales couldn’t explain this. It was obviously not just friendly touches. He knew before that he was being illogical but he just didn’t want to deal with it. He had hoped that maybe it would just all go away. He had wanted so badly to trust Trieg, to have his respect…

As he turned on the water to the sink, he let that thought spin around in his mind like a coin slowly descending to the bottom of a charity vortex funnel. He began to vigorously wash his hands, as if to scour off Trieg’s touch.

He was so stupid. Why did he let Trieg do this? Why didn’t he try to stop him or say _anything_? He was disgusted with himself for his passivity and felt a creeping guilt rise up his throat. His fault. Letting Trieg do this. He shouldn’t have let him get away with all those touches. Acting as if this was all normal. It was almost like he had just said to Trieg that he was fine with it.

And now how could he tell Trieg to stop after pretty much giving him so much latitude? Trieg might react badly; and despite his actions, Kurt still couldn’t shake that yearning for respect from Trieg.

There was no way he could tell anyone else. His guilt alone was enough to consume him, but to have someone else know about his culpability. It would feel like his whole world was slowly being swallowed by a black hole. Just the thought of having to confess what was going on made him feel sick and dizzy. What if no one believed him? If Trieg convinced them he was deluded? Or what if nothing happened to Trieg and everything stayed the same?  

He shut off the tap as that last fearful thought filled him with a mild panic. Acting in auto, he briefly turned the water back on to cup some in his hand and threw it at a few stray blue furs that had escaped and attached themselves to the side of the sink. He watched as the water carried them away towards the inevitable fall. The habitual action let him slowly get back under control. This time he turned the water off for good. As he listened to the old pipes complain, he began to think about things logically.

Was it really such a big deal? It’s not like it was. It’s not like Trieg was taking it any further. If he did, Kurt could always teleport away. And he would. It was fine.

As he tried to delude himself into thinking that nothing was amiss, everything was fine, the bathroom door swung hard against the wall. The loud bash of the door hitting the wall jarred Kurt out of his thoughts, and he swiftly straightened up to meet the gaze of a fuming Lance.

“What-” Lance shouted but stopped himself when he realized how loud he was. He waited for the door to slowly swing close before starting again. “What the fuck?” He repeated while stepping forward. Kurt took a wary step back, uncomfortable with Lance’s proximity. Trepidation filled him. Had Lance somehow seen what he let Trieg do?

“What do you mean?” Kurt found it difficult to look Lance in the eyes. He placed a shaky hand on the sink’s edge to prevent it from revealing his nervousness.

“What do you mean what do I mean? First, you blow me off. Then, you fucking ignore the whole table, like somehow I’ve tainted everyone with my presence, and now you run off in a huff to hide in the bathroom simply because I called you a freak.”

Kurt stared at Lance in bafflement. Thoughts of Lance’s earlier insult having been completely taken over by Trieg. He had forgotten entirely about the earlier incident. It seemed so insignificant in comparison.

Lance must’ve read the confusion on Kurt’s face. His anger deflated without a source of contention. “Shit.” Lance ran a hand through his hair. “I must look really fucking stupid.”

Kurt shook his head. “No. It’s just that…” This was the moment that Kurt could confess to someone what was going on, but he just couldn’t do it. His mind scrambled for a plausible excuse. “…just that I…don’t feel well.”

“Oh. Did you throw up?” Lance looked concerned and took another step closer to Kurt, eyes searching for signs of sickness.

“No. I just felt like I needed to.” Which wasn’t actually a lie.

“Do you still need to?”

“A bit.”

“Like right now?” Lance asked nervously.

“I’m not going to throw up on you,” Kurt said with exasperation.

“Yeah, ok. Do you want to go home?”

That was the best suggestion Kurt had heard all day. “ _Ja._ ”

“I’m sure Mark won’t mind leaving early. And if Miguel wants to stay, he can grab a ride with someone else.”

“No, don’t worry about that. I’ll just teleport home.” There was no way that Kurt wanted to be stuck in such close quarters when he just wanted to be alone.

“Will you be ok doing that?”

“I’ll be fine.” He started heading towards the door, readying himself to face the others.

“Wait,” Lance said as he grabbed Kurt’s arm just before he passed by. It took all of Kurt’s willpower not to rip his arm from Lance. He did _not_ want to be grabbed right now, but luckily Lance let go relatively quickly preventing any histrionics.

Lance looked like he was struggling with what he wanted to say. “I came in here because that is…. I didn’t like you ignoring me and I wanted to say that….” Lance sighed heavily. “Look, I’m fucking sorry. I don’t think you’re a freak. Goddamnit, I think-”

Taking pity on him, Kurt interrupted Lance. “No need to beat yourself up.” It still hurt that Lance had called him a freak but at least he apologized. And maybe he was right. Maybe he was a freak, letting Trieg touch and – no. He couldn’t think about that now. Shoving his dark thoughts to a small corner of his mind, he concentrated fully on the conversation at hand.

“Besides, you’re not that bad, even though you can be a big jerk.”

Lance seemed to be slightly abashed by the sentiment, a slight blush gracing his cheeks. “Yeah, I know. It’s my thing. And you’re not as annoying as I once thought you were.”

Kurt couldn’t help but smile in amusement at Lance’s bluntness.

 

His smile lasted until they returned back to the dining area, and Kurt spotted Trieg. It was almost like his lie was coming true. A sickness started rolling in his stomach as he caught Trieg’s stare. Instead of retaking his seat, he stood with Lance at the head of the table next to Mark.

“Hey, so you guys work it out?” Mark asked.

“Actually, Kurt’s not feeling very well, so he’s gonna head out,” Lance explained.

“Oh.” Mark looked over Kurt with concern. “Let me take a few more sips and we can go.”

“Nonsense, Mark,” Trieg butted in. “There’s no need for you to miss out. I’d be happy to take Kurt home early if he needs to go.”

Kurt felt his heart speed up, almost feeling cornered by Trieg’s suggestion. His mind worked double-time to find an excuse. “I,um, I have a ride. I called already. They’re already on their way now. I’m just going to go wait outside for them. The pizza smell is a little gross right now.” Kurt pulled a sickly face to add credence to his lie.

“I’ll wait with you. Be back in a bit,” Lance said. They hurriedly exited so that no one else could offer to join. and Kurt could teleport without an audience.

Kurt led them around the building where only a solitary dumpster awaited their arrival.

“Thanks. I thought for a second we’d have the whole team waiting out here,” Kurt said.

Lance looked back towards the entrance of the restaurant. “Yeah…I don’t really feel like going back in now.”

“Why?” Kurt was a little surprised. He figured Lance would enjoy hanging out with the rest of the team a bit longer.

Lance shrugged. “I dunno. Just not in the mood.”

“Well, do you want a lift?” Kurt figured it couldn’t hurt to ask.

“Man, whenever you’ve teleported me, I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

“That’s because I wanted you to. Otherwise, I can make sidealong teleportation not so bad of a ride.”

Lance still looked skeptical but seemed willing to try.

“And you won’t throw up on me either, right?” Lance asked warily.

“No guarantees.” Lance balked a second before Kurt continued. “Don’t worry. I’m feeling a bit better. If I throw up, I’ll be sure to lean away from you.”

“Alright. Just don’t let me forget to text Mark in a bit so he’s not wondering where I am.”

“Sure.” Kurt was relieved that he’d be able to escape without having to face Trieg again. That is until the next practice. He’d worry about that when it arrived. With that, the two teleported in a cloud of purple smoke.

Unbeknownst to Kurt and Lance, Trieg had waited a few minutes before following them outside the restaurant. Their voices floating from the alley clued him in to their location. But when he walked behind the building, they were nowhere in sight.

 


	6. Chapter 6

** Chapter 6 **

 

Through the grey clouds, a weak morning light seeped through to shine down on Bayville High. Under tall, oak trees and on the dew-soaked grass, high schoolers were scattered across the front yard, huddled in their preferred cliques. A few pairs of students were standing away from the crowd in semi-secluded spaces, sneaking in a small morning make-out session.

Lance sat atop of the picnic bench outside the school, waiting for the first bell to ring, signaling the start of the day. His feet found purchase on the hard, black plastic of the bench while his elbows balanced on his knees. He face was cradled in his hands as he stared out into space. The morning was crisp and smelled of an oncoming cold-front – a perfect concoction to clear one’s mind. He had ditched the other members of the Brotherhood for precisely that reason. He wanted to spend some time alone with his thoughts. Lance’s mind kept flittering to his and Kurt’s relationship. He felt confused and unsure. They had started out under the charade of social niceties, but at some point the pretense had faded away. In fact, now, they teased each other and joked around, with or without Mark present. He had even felt guilty – _him_ guilty – at calling Kurt a freak. He still felt slightly ashamed when he recalled the hurt look that had graced Kurt’s face. He had said he wanted to change himself for the better, but was this too far? What would the rest of the Brotherhood think if he said he’d become friends with a Kurt?

Lance shook his head. He had promised himself over the summer that he was done with trying to fit in with the rest of the Brotherhood. He wanted to dissociate himself from them, annoyed at their childish antics. He wanted to become better. He couldn’t do that if he always wondered what they thought.

He had fun with Kurt and liked him. But then again, they mostly interacted only at gymnastics practice. He avoided him at all other times. Maybe that said more about the state of their relationship than anything else. Lance sighed heavily to himself and shifted on the bench, eliciting a scraping noise as his jeans rubbed against the plastic. Then there was that time in the bathroom at Tom’s Pizza Bistro. He liked remembering that moment when he made Kurt smile, easing that tension from whatever it was he was upset about. Maybe he did want to be friends with Kurt but didn’t know how to go about it. He didn’t want to fuck it up like it seemed he did everything else.

The picnic table creaked under extra weight as someone climbed up to join Lance.

“Thinking deeply or hardly thinking,” Mark said as he settled in next to Lance.

“Just thinking.” Lance straightened up and leaned back on his hands to look over at Mark.

Mark leaned back alongside Lance, surveying the growing throng of students. “I’m glad that you and Kurt got over whatever it was. Your friendship is brand new. Needs daily watering and care. Like a plant.” Mark sagely nodded as if some friendship guru.

“What, we’re not friends,” Lance retorted back without thinking. It was so easy to be defensive, especially when the sensitive issue was at the fore of his mind.

Mark just rolled his eyes. “Fine, then you’re not friends.”

Lance huffed, unsure if he was happy with Mark’s quick acquiescence or confused on how his statement made him feel.

“But, I’ve figured it out,” Mark continued on as if Lance’s remark was irrelevant.

Lance took the bait. “Figured what out?”

“Why you want to be friends with Kurt.”

Sitting up, Lance crossed his arms. “Why do you think I even want to be friends with him?”

“You already are but since we’re in this whole denial stage, I’ll tell you why. You want his approval."

“Fucking Christ, you’re talking out of your ass now.”

“No. You said yourself that you aren’t a nice guy but are trying to be better. Kurt’s probably one of the nicest guys, and you want his stamp of approval that now you too are nice.”

Lance scoffed. “That is the biggest pile of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

“I talked to my parents.”

“This again?” Lance scowled, still not too pleased that Mark conversed with his parents about him. He wondered what else Mark’s parents had analyzed about him, but it was probably best he never found out.

“They’re psychologist. Can’t argue with a Ph.D.”

“Fine. Then what about Kurt. Why has he been all buddy-buddy with me? Did you ask your parents about that?” Lance asked snidely.

“Why wouldn’t he want to be friends with you?”

Lance just stared at Mark. Mark’s candid tone and the implication of his statement created a euphoric feeling that slowly overtook Lance. He knew he wasn’t always kind and could be a jackass but knowing that Mark really did value their friendship. That was awesome.

Mark shook his head and smiled. “Sometimes, you’re just too hard on yourself.”

Lance thought back to what Mark said and felt a little upset. “So I’m just using Kurt to feel good about myself? That makes me sound like a complete dick.”

“And sometimes you’re a complete idiot. That’s not what I said.” A loud bell resounded three times, signaling the ten minute countdown until the start of class. Mark jumped off the bench and straightened his backpack that hung off one shoulder.

“You said I wanted his stamp of approval.”

“Yeah, everyone wants their friends’ approval. It’s part of friendship. You just get the extra benefit of feeling good about yourself by not being friends with an asshole. Afterall, who you’re friends with says something about yourself.”

Lance stood up next to Mark, thinking on what he said.

“The problem is is that you two are only just school friends. Not even school friends, just gymnastics friends. All of us. It’s time for us to step up our game. So I have a plan.”

Lance looked warily at Mark but waited to hear out his idea that would somehow bring their friendship to the next level.

“You two are coming with me to the movies this Saturday. We’re going to hang out every weekend until you believe me that you two are friends. Not just acquaintances or gymnastics friends. But actually friends that hang out doing shit.”

Lance rolled his eyes but he didn’t argue. Whenever Mark got an idea in his head, there wasn’t much that could change his obstinate mind.

The five-minute bell rang, and any stragglers left outside started making their way to the entrance of the school.                

“We’ll talk more about it at gymnastics practice today,” Mark said as he and Lance merged with the rushing crowd. “You’ll see. It’ll be great.” They soon parted ways to head off to their first class.

 

 

Mark kept true to his word. The first thing he said when Lance arrived to gymnastic practice was how they needed to talk to Kurt to plan their weekend.

“Ready to put my plan into action?” Mark asked from his perch on the pommel horse.

Lance paused in between his situps, draping his body over his knees. “Your stupid plan from this morning?”

“The only stupid thing I see here is a doubter. Never doubt me. Now go get Kurt.”

“Why do I have to do it? I’m sitting down,” Lance whined.

“Just think of it as your first step to friendship. Besides, I wanna get started on my routine.” Mark patted the pommel horse with two hardy slaps.

“Fine. Where is he anyway?” Lance stood up and stretched his arms across his body before scanning the room.

“Think he was late. Just look for Trieg.” Mark’s voice had a slight growl to it. “Lately, that’s all he’s done is hover over Kurt like a lingering fart cloud.”

Lance grinned in amusement at Mark’s description of Trieg. “Don’t like Trieg much still.”

Mark shrugged. “Just something off about him. Look, see.” Mark pointed over to the opposite side of the room where an area of the mats had been cleared for weight-lifting and stretching. Kurt was sitting cross-legged with his back to them, probably having just finished stretching. And true to Mark’s words, Trieg was bent down next to him, his right arm casually placed around Kurt’s shoulder. “As I said, like a leech.”

“Well, as long as he’s not sucking Kurt dry, I think Kurt can handle his attention.”

“Yeah, probably. Just go help him out and remove Leech Trieg.”

Giving his arms a few, large swings to finish his warm-up, Lance sauntered across the mats, giving a wide berth to the apparatuses in the middle of the room to avoid getting hit by a teammate. As he approached Kurt and Trieg, he began to call out to Kurt but stopped himself. Trieg was awfully close to Kurt and seemed to be speaking to him in low tones. Kurt’s posture read all sorts of tense, like a spring wound up tightly.

Trieg must’ve sensed his presence because he pulled back from Kurt to turn around and look at Lance. “Alvers, what brings you over here? Need help with something?”

Lance stared for a second. He swore that when Trieg sat back that he saw him remove his left hand from Kurt’s leg. Blinking and shaking his head, Lance figured his eyes must’ve been playing a trick.

Kurt stood up quickly away from Coach Trieg, one arm slightly holding the other as if for protection.

Unsure of what to make of the situation, Lance’s mind stumbled a bit before responding to Trieg. “Just wanted to talk to Kurt.”

“Sure.” With a grunt, Trieg picked himself off the ground. “I was just about done anyway. You two have fun.” Trieg hummed a bit as he walked off, a light bounce to his step.

Once alone, Lance cautiously asked, “Is everything ok?”

“Y-yeah. Fine,” Kurt responded, his voice had a small tremble in it.

“That was the most non-convincing fine ever. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Kurt tried to get himself back under composure. “Nothing’s wrong. Why?” His smile came out a little wobbly, but Lance figured he’d drop it. It was obviously the same problem that was bothering Kurt at the pizza parlor and most likely Trieg was helping him out. As Mark had pointed out, they weren’t close friends yet so no reason to think that Kurt would be willing to open up to either him or Mark about it anyways.

“You just seemed…” Lance shrugged. “Anyway, Mark has a great plan for all of us and needs you to be there so you too can bask in its glory.”

“Okay,” Kurt said hesitantly, unsure of what Mark’s “great plan” could be.

Lance and Kurt wound up catching the end of Mark’s pommel horse routine, his dismount ending with Mark bent on one knee.

“Figured I’d try out a new dismount. Still needs work,” Mark commented as he straightened up.

“Everything else seems pretty good. You’ve really improved,” Kurt said.

“Thanks.”

“So I hear you have some great plan.” Kurt jumped up on the pommel horse and took a seat on the left side. Mark heaved himself up on the right, leaving Lance standing in front of them completing their small circle.

“I do. We’re all going to the movies on Saturday.” Mark stated cogently, as if challenging them to doubt his plan.

Lance caught Kurt’s raised eyebrow as if questioning ‘this is his great plan.’ Lance shrugged but allowed Mark to explain.

“Right now we’re all gymnastics friends. This way we’ll be friend friends.”

“Is this something your parents recommended?” Kurt asked wryly.

Lance almost laughed. Kurt must’ve also gotten the “my parents are psychologists” spiel before.

“It’s a good strategy.” Lance noticed that Mark didn’t answer Kurt.

“Ok,” Kurt capitulated readily, game to Mark’s idea.

Figuring it could be fun and why not humor Mark, Lance asked, ”Alright, then what movie?”

“Anything but horror. _Jackhammer_ still haunts my thoughts.” Mark made a gagging motion as if the mere suggestion of gore would make him lose his lunch.

“How about _Treepocalypse_?” Kurt posited as he started to lean back but then caught himself before falling backwards off the pommel horse.

“The one about the trees attacking the city? Could be good,” Lance said.

“Sounds good. I’ll text you guys what time I can get tickets.” Mark jumped off the pommel horse. “Better get back to practice before Trieg comes over here to chew us out. I’m gonna go work on the parallel bars.” With that, Mark took his leave.

“I wonder what made him want to do this,” Kurt pondered out loud.

“I dunno. Might as well humor him. Come with me to the floor. I want to show you the new pass I’ve been working on.” Lance worked with Kurt for the rest of practice, wondering whether Mark’s plan was going to be as successful as he hoped or backfire completely.

 

 

 

Saturday continued the trend of overcast skies, but at times, the sun would peak through the clouds and add a bit of light and warmth to the air. Lance, Mark and Kurt met outside the theater, Mark flourishing the tickets in his right hand. After stopping by the refreshment counter for some drinks and popcorn, the three made their way to the dim theater. There was a smattering of groups spread throughout the theater, but overall the audience size was relatively small. Choosing some seats at the top, Mark led them over and jostled his way to the middle of the room for a prime view.

Lance found himself smack dab in the middle, a big bowl of buttery popcorn perched in his lab for everyone to reach. They were only able to chat just a bit before the theater darkened and the previews started. One particular preview promised a thrilling time when a group of teenagers embark on a cruise and are slowly picked off one by one.

“Think we can convince Mark to see that?” Kurt leaned over and whispered to Lance.

Lance snorted. “Fat chance on that. Maybe if one of us grows some big tits.”

Kurt had to stifle a laugh to not disturb the other moviegoers.

The movie itself, sadly, was not as entertaining as the previews. Lance guessed there was only so much one could do with trees attacking a city. If he had to watch another person get hauled up into some creepy, dark boughs by some twisted branches, he might just throw his drink at the screen. Sighing, he turned to look at Mark, but he seemed engaged with the dreck on the screen. No accounting for taste. Rolling his eyes, Lance looked to his right at Kurt who was resting his face against his hand, looking as bored as Lance felt.

An idea began to form in Lance’s head. This was a perfect moment for him to get back at Kurt all those weeks ago when Kurt doused him with water during gymnastics practice. Grasping his soda in hand, Lance smirked to himself. This was going to be good and hey, he got free refills anyway. Making sure that Kurt was thoroughly distracted by the borefest on the screen, Lance pried off the lid to throw the remnants of his drink at Kurt. Lance, though, underestimated how much of the ice had melted and mixed with the remaining soda. As he threw the drink, most of it ended up sloshing off the side, landing in Kurt’s lap.

While not exactly what he was going for, Lance’s plan was still mostly successful. Kurt jumped a mile in his seat, letting out a surprised yelp.

Mark didn’t even turn from the screen.

“Lance!” Kurt whispered furiously.

Lance just snickered in response.

As Kurt stood up to rid himself off the sloshy mess, his inducered form wavered back and forth between his true self and the fake image. Kurt nervously looked towards Mark before shaking off the coke and ice from his hand. The jarring motion didn’t seem to help, and in the next second, the inducer shorted out completely. Not wasting time, Kurt ported out of the theatre.

Lance felt horrible. He was just trying to have some fun, and it seemed he’d fucked it up again. He just hoped that Kurt hadn’t abandoned them completely. He leaned over to Mark to tell him that he was going to the bathroom, and Mark just nodded, still glued to the screen.

Lance dutifully checked every bathroom or possible location he thought Kurt might’ve ported to before heading around to the back of the theater.

When he peeked his head outside, a few light sprinkles and ominous, dark clouds portended a greater storm.

“Kurt?” Lance called out but the only he response he got was distant thunder. Not really wanting to get wet but figuring he should be thorough, Lance stepped out. There were a few cars parked behind the theater – most likely employees - but otherwise it seemed vacant. Lance yelled out again and almost jumped a foot in the air when Kurt appeared au natural in a cloud of smoke in front of him. “Where-”

“I was on the roof.” Kurt gestured up while fiddling with his watch in his hand. “I think it’s dead.”

“I’m sorry. _Again_.” Lance ran his hands threw his hair in a frustrated motion. “God, I’m such a fuck up.”

“It’s not really a big deal. Mark didn’t notice, right?” Kurt glanced at Lance but then quickly away.

Lance could tell that while Kurt was trying to pass it off, he seemed a bit hurt.

“No, he didn’t.” Lance put his hand on Kurt’s shoulder, wanting to draw his attention. He didn’t want Kurt to start acting all weird around him again. “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to break your watch.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just sometimes…”

Lance waited a second; but when Kurt didn’t continue, he shifted his weight, unsure how to proceed. While he was glad that Kurt didn’t seem upset about his actions, it was something else. Lance didn’t know if he should drop it or try to draw it out of Kurt.

A rumbling resounded, heading towards them like an approaching train before fat drops plummeted from the sky. The sidewalk resembled a battlefield. Like cannonballs eradicating the enemy, the raindrops left dark splotches splattered across the chalk white. Lance watched as Kurt shivered as a cold drop slide down the back of his neck.

“Anyway, I should probably go before it really starts pouring, and you need to get back to

Mark,” Kurt said, backing away a bit.

The moment had passed and Lance had missed his chance. Not wanting to bring the mood back down, Lance let Kurt change the subject. “You know, I did say I’d get back at you.”

“Back at me?”

“You know, for that time in gymnastics.”

It took Kurt a second to remember what Lance was referring to, but Lance could tell the second

he remembered by the glint in his eyes. “Hah, oh yeah. Next time, maybe something a little less sticky.” Kurt held out his hand. His fur looked stuck together in small, viscous clumps.

“I don’t just get even, I do it better.” Since Kurt wasn’t upset, Lance felt it was perfectly fine to gloat.

“Well, now you’ll have to come up with some excuse to give Mark for why I had to go.”

“W-what? Hey, that’s not fair.”

“You’re the one that made this sticky mess. And at least I get to miss the rest of that awful movie. So thanks.” Kurt grinned, pleased with the silver lining he’d found.

“It is pretty bad,” Lance agreed, not really wanting to sit the rest of the way through. He’d rather just spend the rest of the movie out here with Kurt, but he knew that Mark would notice at some point and come searching for them.

“Alright, I gotta go.”

“Hey, um,” Lance started. He’d had fun today and wanted to do it again. He just wasn’t sure if Kurt was willing. “Next time, the soda’s on me.”

“Ok,” Kurt smiled deviously. “Be sure to bring a change of clothes, then.” He ported away before Lance caught on to what he meant.

Lance headed back into the theater, a light feeling spreading through him, burning away any traces of chill left from the rain. Maybe Mark’s idea wasn’t so crazy afterall.

 

 

 

Lance was pleased. After getting together several more times to watch movies, play games and just general hanging out, he could with surety call Mark, Kurt and him friends. It made him feel pretty good about himself. He had friends, good friends that wouldn’t backstab him – something he didn’t feel like he had with the Brotherhood.

Stuffing his English folder in his backpack, Lance closed his school locker door. The empty hallways echoed the lone sound that would’ve normally been drowned out by a cluster of chatting students. He fumbled with his lock before getting it to click shut. Even though Mark was absent today, having gotten sick over the weekend, gymnastics practice was still fun. And luckily Kurt had inadvertently reminded him of the English paper that was due on Monday, giving Lance time to retrieve it from his locker.

Although their friendship seemed to be relatively flourishing, Lance wished Kurt would tell him what it was that seemed to be constantly upsetting him. Both Mark and he had commented how sometimes Kurt just shut down around them or avoided them completely. It was strange, and Lance thought Kurt usually acted off right after having talked with Trieg. Lance wondered what in the hell it was Trieg and Kurt talked about. Was Trieg really helping cause Kurt always seemed more distressed after their little powwows.

Figuring Kurt would tell him when ready and that he’d done enough navelgazing for today, Lance headed back to the gym. Most likely everyone had headed out already, but Lance still needed to change back to his normal clothes.

Crossing the gym floor, the mats absorbed his footfalls. He regretted going out in the school hallways barefooted, but he liked the feeling of the soft, spongy mat underneath his feet. He’d just have to scrub them well when he got home. Grasping the locker room door, he expected an empty room to greet him, but he ended up staring in shock.

Down at the far end, Trieg was standing just behind Kurt. If he took just one incremental step, he’d be practically pushing Kurt into his locker. His hands rested on Kurt’s hips, a familiar and intimate gesture that made Lance’s skin crawl. Kurt’s face was concealed by his open locker, but Lance could see one hand was tightly gripping the locker door. Lance could only hear low tones from Trieg as he murmured into Kurt’s ear.

Having seen enough, Lance loudly made his entrance, depositing his backpack on a bench with a thump, causing Trieg to jerk back from Kurt.

“Alvers, didn’t realize you were still around.” Trieg commented nonchalantly, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “Just giving Kurt some last minute stance pointers.”

Lance just stared him down, not believing Trieg’s excuse.

Trieg seemed unfazed by Lance’s glare. “I’ll let you two finish packing up so you can get home. See you at practice next week.” Trieg, a fake grin plastered on his face, walked by Lance, giving him a brief pat on his way out.

Kurt hadn’t moved from his position by his locker except Lance thought he seemed to be a bit less tense now that Trieg had left.

Lance wasn’t going to let Kurt hide and avoid the problem this time. This had to be it, what was upsetting Kurt so often. Lance couldn’t believe how blind he’d been. He never should’ve dismissed it from his mind, all those small, strange moments he noticed between Trieg and Kurt. He needed to see Kurt’s face. Moving quickly, Lance crossed the locker room and gently closed Kurt’s locker door.

Kurt backed away and sat down on the bench, still facing away from Lance as if he was ashamed to look at him. Lance sat down next to him, almost wishing that Mark was there with his wisdom from his psychologist parents.

But it was just him.

“I’m gonna guess this is what’s been upsetting you lately.”

Kurt didn’t reply at first but then he nodded imperceptibly.

“You know, he shouldn’t do that. You shouldn’t let him touch you like that.” Lance saw that Kurt had his hands clenched in fists on his knees as if somehow that could contain all the emotions he was feeling. But he couldn’t just drop the conversation. Not this time. “I don’t understand why you let him-”

“I don’t want-” Kurt began sharply but broke off before he finished what he was going to say. “Can we not talk about this here?”

“We _need_ to talk about this.” Lance started growing frustrated. Couldn’t Kurt see that this wasn’t something to sweep aside.

“I know,” Kurt said irritably. “Just not here, okay?”

Even though the locker room was empty, Lance thought Kurt had a point. It probably wasn’t too comfortable of a place to have this conversation, and Trieg could walk in at any second. “Alright, then to where?”

“There’s this park on the way back to the mansion. It’s pretty secluded.”

“Ok, fine. Let me grab my stuff, and we can go.” Lance walked over and picked up his gym bag and backpack. He’d just have to worry about changing his clothes later. He didn’t want to delay any further. “Up to giving us a shortcut?”

“Yeah, just not in here.” Kurt pointed to a camera that was mounted in the seam where the ceiling met the wall. It had been installed after a series of thefts from the locker room. They’d been promised that the film would only be reviewed upon suspicion of criminal activities occurring and they’d be informed prior to viewings. Still, Lance thought Kurt was being practical. No reason to take the administration at their word.

Kurt led them around to one of his “safe spots” and ported them to the park.

In contrast to the past few weeks, the sky was clear as the sun began its descent in the sky. Yellow and orange tinted the few stray clouds in the air. Kurt was right in that the park was well secluded. Woods surrounded the park on all four sides with well-worn trails leading out to the road. The park itself was relatively small. There was a basketball court, enough for only one goal, a few scattered picnic tables, and then a swath of long grass turned brown from the fall.

“Not many people come here, so it’s pretty nice,” Kurt commented.

“Yeah, just some loser who lost their Frisbee in a tree.” Lance pointed to the red disc stuck way high up in the branches of a bare tree.

“That loser is me. I put it up there so I wouldn’t have to remember each time I came here with Scott or the others.”

“Oh.”

Kurt ported up and grabbed the Frisbee and threw it towards Lance from his perch. Lance barely caught it by the tip of his fingers, a little out of Frisbee practice. Kurt ported back down and for awhile as the sun continued setting, they tossed the Frisbee back and forth. Lance found it relaxing and thought the ease in tension might make the pending conversation easier.

After one particular hard dive Lance performed to catch the disc, he wound up on his stomach in the grass. Already feeling tired from gymnastics practice, Lance made himself comfortable, needing a break. The grass crunched under him as he nestled down further, head coming to rest on his hands folded in front of him. Kurt came and joined him, sitting cross-legged beside him.

Kurt picked up one of the brown leaves that littered the ground and began to twirl it in his hand. “You know, even though Mark can be pretty demanding, he had a good idea – us hanging out and all.”

Lance inwardly smiled. He knew that Kurt and he were friends now. It just felt good to have it confirmed out loud.

“Yean, strange, though. How he just suggested that. He seemed really determined for us to hang out.” Lance watched Kurt play with the leaf from the corner of his eye before reaching out with his hand to pick a particularly crunchy-looking one of his own to fiddle with.

“Don’t tell him I said this, but I kind of think Mark is actually lonely.”

Lance looked questioningly at Kurt, wanting to hear out his thoughts.

“A lot of people are turned off by his gruffness. He doesn’t hang out with a lot of people during school.”

“Well, that’s stupid. Mark’s a cool guy.”

Kurt smiled in agreement before laying down on his back beside Lance. “Maybe sometimes some _Arschlochs_ are not as bad as they seem at first.”

“Sometimes, though, some people are just complete fucking – oh.” It took Lance a second to get that Kurt was referring to him. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“You know, I’ve been wondering. Why did you join the gymnastics team in the first place?” Kurt still had the leaf in his hand, but now he was tearing it into small pieces that drifted to his chest to create a mosaic of brown on his maroon shirt. The shredding made a satisfying sound.

Lance thought back to that memory which set off a chain of events that led to this previously improbable moment. It was during the long days of summer. There hadn’t been anything happening. No fighting, no missions, nothing. He remembered standing in the kitchen, looking into the living room. It was a fucking pigsty in there. No one had bothered cleaning in ages. Empty pizza boxes and Chinese take-out along with a few porno rags composed the carpeting of the floor. Freddie was sprawled out on the couch, one hand in a bag of chips and one clutching a soda as he mindlessly flipped through the channels. Pietro and Todd were arguing about something again – he couldn’t remember exactly what- something pointless and stupid. It wasn’t any different from any other day in the summer, but maybe that was precisely it. He stood there watching them and thought this was what he was. What he was a part of. This pointlessness. This stagnation. He could either join in and become part of the juvenile tableau or go out and do something. Change something. Be something. Be better than all of this and what he was before. He hadn’t immediately decided on signing up for gymnastics, but that one, small moment was the first spark.

He told Kurt this in not so many words, and Kurt just listened. He didn’t really say anything but he didn’t judge either. After he was finished, they sat in companionable silence for a bit. Lance thought how it just felt good to just be himself at the moment. No worrying about trying to fit in or act cool. He turned to look at Kurt who was reposed in supreme relaxation. One hand was tossed above his head and his eyes seemed focus on the late autumn sunset that was beginning to surrender to a crisp night. A stray thought skittered across Lance’s mind that slowly took shape and grew. He ended up staring at the inducer on Kurt’s hand that was stretched above his head. With one simple flick, he could turn it off. Then it would be him and the real Kurt. Not that the inducer changed his personality or created some alternate version. Just that Lance thought it was unfair that he could feel free to be himself while Kurt couldn’t.

For a moment, Lance wondered what that would be like – to constantly be hiding what he really was. In a way, he did but not like Kurt. Thinking back to that time at the theater, a small epiphany started to encroach on him. Maybe what Kurt was upset about then was that frustration. Lance couldn’t imagine having to deal with that.

Lance’s hand crept towards Kurt’s on its own volition, a bare inch away from touching the inducer when Kurt suddenly turned towards him. Lance quickly withdrew his hand.

Kurt stared at him curiously, unsure of what Lance had intended to do.

Lance stammered, “Sorry. Um, I was just thinking.” He was glad that Kurt had interrupted his compulsion. Deactivating the inducer, even if they were alone, would be a breach of trust. It wasn’t up to him, and he bet Kurt would’ve been pretty pissed.

“About what?”

Lance thought this would be a perfect time to discuss what they had really come to the park for. Besides, it matched with his thoughts. When Kurt was wearing his inducer, obviously he also had to be careful about people touching him to avoid discovering his fur. If Trieg’s hand had slipped even once, Kurt’s secret would be out.

“About Trieg,” Lance replied, slightly trepidatious about Kurt’s reaction. Afraid he would just teleport away to avoid the conversation completely.

Immediately Kurt’s posture went from relaxed to rigid. He sat up and bowed his head forward, his hair falling in front of his face. “Oh.” He brushed away the pieces of leaf that had stuck to his shirt, as if trying to avoid looking at Lance.

“This is why we came out here.” Lance sat up too, leaning a bit forward so he could catch a glimpse of Kurt’s face. “I was thinking of how Trieg could’ve found out. You know. About you.”

“He hasn’t,” Kurt replied tersely.

“But he could’ve.”

Kurt sighed and stopped trying to remove the last tenacious leaf speck. His tone came out defeated. “I know.”

“Has he?” Lance paused, not sure how to phrase such an uncomfortable question for both him and Kurt. “How far has he…?”

“He hasn’t done anything. I mean, nothing different from what you’ve seen.”

“So just the excessive pats and such?”

“Yeah.” Kurt didn’t dare look at Lance. His fingers twitched nervously as he hid the full truth. Lance didn’t need to know how far Trieg had really gone. “Today was just the most… aggressive he’s been.”

“That’s good then. I mean that’s not good but at least he hasn’t tried touching you, you know…” Lance trailed off. It was an awkward conversation. “But I still think you should tell him to stop. It just isn’t right.”

“Do you really think that’s going to convince him?”

Lance shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe. I mean maybe he has it in his head that you’re okay with it. Tell him it makes you uncomfortable. If he listens, then great. If not, you could always drop out of gymnastics or you know there’s not that much longer for the season.”

“I’d still have PE with him. But I guess he leaves me mostly alone then.”

Lance took courage that Kurt seemed to be coming around to his idea. “Yeah. I think if you just talk to him everything’ll be fine. He’s probably just lonely. I don’t think he’s married. He just got too attached to you.”

Kurt made a noncommittal reply to that.

“So will you talk to Trieg?”

Kurt hesitated a second, thinking on the validity of Lance’s suggestion. “ _Ja_ , I’ll do it.”

“Monday then?”

Kurt nodded before standing up and wiping the grass from the seat of his pants. “We should get going.”

By now, only the barest of light filtered through the bottom of the trees as the sun bid a final adieu. Lance hadn’t even noticed the few lights humming on as dusk had settled, illuminating the basketball court and one of the paths out.

Lance waited as Kurt returned the Frisbee to its spot in the trees. He felt proud of himself. He gave out some solid advice, had an otherwise relaxing time and felt that they had both opened up a bit more to each other. He wouldn’t mind an outing of just them two again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Lance does kinda say the wrong things in this last conversation (saying how Kurt should’ve just stopped him). But I figured that’d be more realistic to stumble on what to say, especially when he doesn’t have the full truth in front of him.
> 
> And though there isn’t much action in this chapter, I wanted to build up Lance and Kurt’s relationship, especially since I am going to add some slash (starting next chapter). Speaking of which, next chapter, shit hits the fan.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

** Chapter 7 **

 

 

Lance walked through the front doors of the X-mansion into the ornate entry way. A scarlet, plush rug laced with intricate golden threads and a high-vaulted ceiling hinted at the splendor of the rest of the mansion. He had been to the mansion several times, had even lived there for a brief stint, but the décor could still give him pause.

“Hey,” greeted Kurt as he closed the front door behind Lance. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Yeah,” Lance replied while scanning the hallways. He was wary of running into Kitty. Even though they’d been broken up for almost a year, it would still be awkward to see her around.

“Don’t worry, no one else is around. They’re out shopping at the mall.” Kurt must’ve noticed Lance’s discomfort, but knowing he wouldn’t have to face a confrontation, Lance relaxed.

He followed Kurt through the rest of the mansion, glad that Kurt must’ve felt comfortable enough around him to not wear his inducer. After grabbing a snack in the kitchen, Kurt ported them straight to the Danger Room which had been transformed into a fully equipped gymnastics arena. They practiced for a bit together and fooled around on the apparatuses. Until somehow the two of them wound up standing in front of each other.

Kurt was saying something, but Lance couldn’t concentrate on it. In fact, it seemed he couldn’t focus on anything. Without thinking, letting impulse take control, Lance leaned slightly down and kissed Kurt. At first chastely and then after receiving a positive, tentative response, began to deepen the kiss.

Lance abruptly opened his eyes. He blinked a few times before sitting up in his bed. His bedside clock reading 3:45 a.m. lent a greenish tint to the otherwise dark room. He’d been dreaming. Slowly, he lay back down, repeating the mantra in his head that it was just a dream. His eyes slowly closed, and he began floating in a state between being half-asleep and half-awake. His mind drifted back to his dream and added some salacious details and excitement. He imagined the kiss becoming more passionate, more frantic. He could practically feel his fingers running through Kurt’s hair and slowly leading them to the floor and –

Lance bolted up in bed again – in disbelief that his mind would betray him twice.

This wasn’t… he didn’t….

Trying to sort through his turbid thoughts, Lance acted on autopilot. He leaned over and picked up his pillow that had somehow fallen off in the middle of the night. He brought it on top of his lap, hiding the evidence that his dream had an effect on him.

He wasn’t gay. Not that being gay was bad. It just wasn’t for him. Besides, he had dated Kitty. In fact, sometimes he still used her as fantasy material when he wanted to beat one out. His thoughts had sometimes conjured up a few enticing male figures when he was likewise occupied, but he had always been able to squash and ignore them. But this dream and post-fantasizing was a whole different level.

Did that make him bi? He could deal with that. As long as he could ignore half of that equation, he’d be perfectly fine. No one needed to know.

Lance thought back to the dream and could feel deep inside that he wanted to desperately let the rest of the fantasy play out. Leaning down into his pillow on his lap, Lance released a muffled cry of frustration. Goddamnit. He wasn’t supposed to like guys. He wasn’t supposed to start liking _another_ X-man. And he most certainly wasn’t supposed to like blue, fuzzy ones at that.

Sighing heavily, he fell backwards back onto his bed, bringing his pillow over his face. It didn’t matter. It was just a stupid fantasy. It didn’t have any real world implications. He could have his fun in the privacy of his own room and then everything else could continue on normally. He could hang out with Mark and Kurt and nothing would be different. Though… thinking about last Friday at the park. He wanted to repeat that again, when it was just him and Kurt. The conversation was nice – at least until he had to bring up Trieg - and he felt relaxed and content. Plus, he could imagine things going differently next time. The two of them, lying on the grass. The setting sun’s light playing across Kurt’s face. The secluded area.

Lance clutched the pillow tightly over his face to stop that train of thought before it left the station. Relaxing a bit to give himself some room to breathe, he sat there in the dark for a few minutes, trying to clear his mind.

Ok, so he was maybe, possibly, a tiny bit attracted to Kurt. It was probably just a phase. The confusing start to their friendship was what was throwing him off. He’ll do like he said. Ignore it and it’ll go away. Just ignore it and it’ll all just go away. Chanting this in his mind, Lance eventually fell asleep.

 

 

Kurt picked up his tray from the lunch line, and headed into the crowded, bustling cafeteria. Successfully dodging one kid who suddenly stopped in the middle of an aisle between two long lunch tables, Kurt eventually made his way to where Mark was sitting. Earlier, Mark had beckoned him to join him and it was only until now that he finally trudged through the lunch line.

“Took you long enough,” Mark said as he unwrapped a ham and cheese sandwich dripping with mayo from a brown paper bag.

“They ran out of pizza and started serving spaghetti.” Kurt made a face at the disgusting slop on his tray. The “meat” looked slightly off color, more grey than brown, and the red sauce was so bright, it could be radioactive.

“The same spaghetti they served last Friday?”

“Looks like it.” Kurt shoved his fork in the mess of noodles and lifted it directly above his tray. Instead of eating the slop, he watched the noodles slowly plop back onto his tray in a slimy mess. The sauce slightly splattered, turning the table into a crime scene.

“Here.” Mark reached into his sack and pulled out another sandwich. Purple jelly intermixed with crunchy peanut butter clung to the sides of the plastic wrap. “I got two. Take it.”

“You sure?”

“I’m not going to let you eat something that might attack you.”

Kurt took the proffered sandwich, grateful that the spaghetti would remain untouched. “Thanks.” He had actually grown to like PB&J sandwiches after being in America for awhile.

“Lance going to join us?”

After swallowing a sticky bit, Kurt responded. “Doubtful.” He couldn’t break it to Mark that Lance wouldn’t be caught dead sitting with him in front of the rest of the Brotherhood.

“His loss,” Mark shrugged before tearing open a bag of chips. He held it out to Kurt, who took a few.

“I owe you one.” Kurt munched on a chip before asking. “So go on any more dates with Shelly?”

“Just a few. I really do like her, but she said she only wants to date around. Not get stuck in a relationship.” Mark was trying to pass it off, but it was obviously from the tone in his voice that Shelly’s rejection had been a blow to him.

“That sucks.”

“Yeah. I’m not good with sharing. So I don’t think I’ll ask her out again.”

Kurt didn’t mention how it seemed Mark was perfectly capable of sharing his lunch. It wasn’t exactly the same.

“What about you? Anyone you’re interested in?” Mark asked as he dug around again in his seemingly bottomless bag. He pulled out an orange and began peeling and segmenting it.

Kurt shrugged. It’s not that he didn’t think about others in that way. It was just that he couldn’t act on any desire, so why bother. Besides, there was no one in particular that really crossed his mind. Going out with Amanda had been more for the novelty of the experience, but ultimately their relationship was shallow and had immediately ended when she had moved. If he really thought about it, he wouldn’t mind being with someone who knew his true self and was just easy and fun to be around.

“No one at all? Girl?” Mark paused. “Guy?”

“Not really.”

“Do you care?”

“Wanna be more specific?”

Mark mumbled around an orange slice, “If it’s a girl or a guy?”

Kurt hesitated a second. He didn’t think that Mark would care, but it wasn’t something he’d come out and really announced. To anyone. But if Mark was willing to ask so casually… he might as well go for it. “I guess guys.” Kurt blushed, self-conscious of his declaration, but Mark didn’t even blink.

His embarrassment faded away, replaced by an ebullient feeling. He had already come to the realization that he preferred guys. Of course this was after some reflection, web browsing, and repeated viewings of _Captain Blood._ There was just something about Errol Flynn. But it was nice to have someone else know and accept without censure.

“What about….” Mark started scanning the cafeteria, as if somehow he could magically find someone that Kurt would be interested in. “Huh, that’s strange.”

“What?” Kurt followed Mark’s gaze to his right, trying to spot anything peculiar.

“Lance is staring over here.”

It took Kurt a second to find Lance in the crowd, but soon spied him sitting at the end of a table, and Mark was right. His stare bore through anyone that passed his line of sight, straight over to Kurt and Mark. As soon as Kurt caught Lance’s eye, Lance began to mouth something.

“What’s he saying? Tree?” Mark asked. “He could just come over here and say it to our face instead of all this furtive crap.”

Kurt didn’t answer Mark, knowing exactly what Lance was mouthing. Trieg. Kurt looked away and down at the mostly finished sandwich. It’d been plaguing him all day about how he’d promised Lance he’d talk to Trieg. He just hadn’t gotten around to it yet. P.E. was busy and then he had to rush to his next class, and in the morning he was already late enough due to his stupid inducer acting up again. Sighing, he knew he was just avoiding the task. He should just get it out of the way now before tomorrow’s gymnastics practice.

Standing up, Kurt picked up his trash. “Hey, I gotta go do something real quick. I should be back before the end of lunch.”

Mark looked curiously from him and then over to Lance. Luckily, he didn’t pry. “Ok. I’ll be here.”

Kurt felt like he was walking the last mile to his execution. He was nervous how the conversation would play out, unsure of how Trieg would react. As he passed by Lance and the rest of the Brotherhood, he heard Pietro mock loudly, “Here comes the freak.”

Lance didn’t speak up, and avoided his glance as he walked by. Slightly hurt, but knowing he shouldn’t have expected any different, Kurt continued out of the cafeteria. He figured he’d first check the most obvious location, the teacher’s lounge. As he walked down the almost empty hallways, he deliberated in his head whether he should knock on the door or just wait for a teacher to come out.

Misfortune, though, seemed to be smiling upon him today. Just as he was approaching the lounge, Trieg exited. Now he couldn’t even make up some excuse about not finding him.

Spotting him immediately, Trieg grinned. “Kurt. Didn’t expect to run into you out here. What can I do you for?”

Kurt desperately wanted to say nothing, but he’d promised Lance to at least try. Besides, maybe Lance’s tactic could have some benefit to it. “Actually, I wanted to talk with you.”

“Oh? What about?”

“Um.” Kurt looked nervously around. Even though most of the students were occupied in classes or the lunchroom, he didn’t really want to have this conversation out in the hallway.

Seeing his hesitation, Trieg kindly smiled. “Come with me. I know for a fact that Ms. Applegate is taking her lunch right now. Her classroom should be empty.”

Trieg led Kurt just a ways down the hall to Ms. Applegate’s classroom, and after unlocking the room, held open the door for Kurt.

Not seeing much of a choice, Kurt entered and walked down the middle of a row of desks to put some space between him and Trieg.

After closing and locking the door behind him, Trieg closed the gap the Kurt had tried to create. He stood right next to Kurt and gestured towards one of the desks.

“Take a seat.”

“No, I’m fine.” Kurt backed up a step, but Trieg followed him.

“I insist, sit down.” Trieg put his hands on Kurt’s shoulders and practically shoved him into a desk chair.

Feeling like he’d already lost control of the conversation, if he ever had it in the first place, Kurt’s apprehension turned into outright anxiety. This was a bad idea. He felt trapped, backed up against the metal bar that connected the seat to the desk.

Trieg towered over Kurt, his muscular form intimidating and daunting. Kurt desperately wished he had something to occupy his hands with.

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

“I.…” Kurt started. He looked down at his hands in front of him. He didn’t even know how to begin.

Trieg knelt down beside him and placed his hand on Kurt’s knee. “It’s ok. You can tell me anything. I won’t judge.”

Kurt jerked his knee away and watched as Trieg’s expression changed to confusion. Feeling emboldened, Kurt gathered up his courage to explain his feelings. “I don’t like it when you do that.” He paused a second, his eyes automatically reading one of the trite posters hanging from the wall. “You Can Do It!” it read in primary yellow. Kurt, for once, decided to take its advice. He couldn’t stop there. He needed to say exactly what he meant. “I don’t like it when you touch me.”

The confusion plaguing Trieg’s face quickly transformed into a fierce scowl. Kurt felt his already racing heart quicken to an unfathomable pace. With the bar blocking his way, he was cornered with no escape.

“Didn’t I tell you to listen to me? Remember in my office?” Trieg practically growled out.

“ _Ja,_ I know but it just doesn’t seem right…” Kurt tried to plead, to allay Trieg’s anger, but his petition fell on deaf ears.

“You aren’t listening to me again.” Trieg’s hand shot out and roughly grabbed Kurt by his arm. Trieg’s grasp was tight and painful, and Kurt had no room to squirm out of the hold. He toyed with whether to teleport in his mind, but considered that only as a last resort in the most exigent circumstances. Even though Trieg was manhandling him, the situation didn’t yet warrant revealing his powers.

“Now I want you to listen closely to me.” Trieg replaced his hand on Kurt’s knee. “ _I_ am in charge. You do what _I_ say. You’ve already let me touch you here,” He moved his hand higher up on Kurt’s leg, “and here.” Trieg moved his hand again to place it on Kurt’s crotch. “If you back out now, then you’re just a big, fucking tease. You let me go this far. Anything else that happens, you know you want it too.”

He slid his hands under the bottom of Kurt’s shirt and began to unbutton his pants. Both arms now free, Kurt pushed against him hard, almost causing Trieg to fall backwards, but he didn’t have quite enough leverage from his seated position. Still, it forced Trieg to remove his hands to catch himself. Taking advantage of Trieg’s imbalance, Kurt sprung up from the desk, but Trieg quickly recovered.

This time, no pretense of gentleness was used. Catching Kurt by his shoulders, Trieg brutally thrust him back into the desk, causing it to scoot across the floor.

At the moment, the sound of a key scraping against the door averted any more aggression from Trieg.

Trieg stepped back just as Ms. Applegate walked through the door. She walked over to her desk and dropped her lunchbox before noticing she had company.

“Oh! I didn’t notice you in here. Am I interrupting anything?”

Trieg smiled kindly. “Of course not. I was just wrapping up my conversation with Kurt. Just needed somewhere private to talk.”

“Is there… anything wrong?” Ms. Applegate was studying Kurt now. Realizing he must be showing his distress, Kurt did his best to wipe any emotion from his face.

“Nothing at all.” Trieg held out a hand for Kurt to use to get up, but Kurt just ignored it and stood up on his own. A dark shadow fluttered across Trieg’s face before he turned back around to Ms. Applegate.

Quickly hurrying past Trieg and Ms. Applegate, Kurt made a beeline for the door, ready to get the hell out of the classroom.

When he reached to open the door, Trieg’s voice stopped him for just a second. “Remember what I said. I’d suggest you to take my advice.”

In response, Kurt just let the door close with a click.

 

 

Kurt flopped on his bed, face down, ready for this day to end. His terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. He pulled a pillow over his head, blocking out the moonlight that filtered through his French doors. The darkness didn’t help bar his thoughts from running amok in his brain.

Right from the beginning of the day, he should’ve just stayed in bed. First, his inducer had shorted out on him just as he was about to leave for school. It seemed that the inducer with the bad battery actually had an internal miswiring. So, he wasted his morning searching for his sole working inducer. Of course, it was in the last place he looked - buried under the covers he’d tossed off his bed. Maybe it does pay off to make your bed in the morning.

All in which made him tardy for school.

Then the conversation with Trieg at lunch had been a disaster. Not only was the situation totally out of his control, if Ms. Applegate hadn’t have entered, he didn’t know what Trieg would’ve done. Not wanting to relive that moment, he forced his thoughts away. As if somehow not thinking about it made it not real.

And then the topping on the cake. For the first time since last school year, the X-men and the Brotherhood had a run-in. And of course, Lance was there. For the most part, Kurt had avoided engaging with him. He didn’t think he could go on the offensive against him, and he really didn’t want to give Lance the opportunity to attack him. Luckily, he never had to find out as Lance must’ve thought similarly and used his powers away from Kurt. Still, Kurt wound up having to teleport some bystanders that were about to be crushed by a falling sign jostled loose by one of Lance’s quakes. The fact of the matter was they were on opposing sides. But it was more than just that. Lance seemed apathetic or at least unaware of his actions harming innocents. If Lance had attacked him or someone else involved in the fight, that would be one thing. But people who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time…. Was that someone he really wanted to be friends with?

What if Lance had hurt them? Or even one of his teammates? Where would that leave them? He didn’t know if he could so readily forgive Lance if Rogue or Scott had been gravely wounded by him. He bet that Lance felt the same for him. And it’s not like he could separate Avalanche from Lance. They were code names, nothing more.

And this was something important to him. He liked protecting others. Not only did it make him feel good, it was the right thing to do. Lance was standing in complete opposition of that.

It was so confusing and stressful to think about. He did want to maintain his friendship with Lance but was it possible? He couldn’t think of any good answers.

Maybe if he went to sleep, the answer would come to him. Or at least give him respite from his rotten day. Kurt could only hope that his dreams would somehow be a panacea that would erase all his problems.

 

Unfortunately, sleep was not the miraculous cure-all that Kurt wished for. Instead, gymnastics practice loomed all day in his mind. Made only worse when Ms. Applegate cornered him to tell him he could talk to her any time. It was nice to know a teacher cared, but Lance already knew, well sort of knew, about Trieg. He didn’t need a teacher suspecting now too.

He almost thought of just skipping gymnastic practice, but he wanted to get things sorted with Lance. …But then again, he also didn’t want to see him either. He may not have made up his mind about Lance, but at least he was certain he didn’t want to see Trieg. His stomach seemed to tie itself in knots just thinking about him. Still, there was only 2 weeks left of gymnastics and then one last, final tournament. He could make it through.

Surprisingly, Trieg had been absent all practice, except the very beginning, and even then, he hadn’t approached Kurt. Otherwise, Trieg had gone once to the locker rooms and then spent the rest of the time in his office. Not having to deal with the coach put Kurt more at ease, but he could feel a subtle tension between him and Lance. It wasn’t on purpose, but he didn’t talk to Lance the whole practice. They both just happened to always be working on different apparatuses. He really didn’t want things to get all weird between them again, but he was having a hard time reconciling their friendship with their adversarial teams.

Feeling disappointed, Kurt headed back to the locker room with the others to get ready to go home. Kurt spied his water bottle creating a wet ring on the bench in front of his locker. He felt idiotic. He could’ve sworn he bought it out with him to practice and had spent a good chunk of time looking for it. Feeling like he was dying of thirst, Kurt took a few minutes just to rehydrate. After gulping down half the bottle, Kurt sat down on the bench, facing his locker. He wanted to approach Lance, but didn’t know how to go about it. He sat there a minute, taking a few more sips of water; but before he could stand up to change, Lance came over and sat down heavily next to him, facing the aisle.

In a hushed voice so the other team members wouldn’t overhear, Lance said, “I don’t want you to give me the silent treatment again because of yesterday.”

“I’m not,” Kurt protested.

“Yeah, you are.” Lance’s voice rose in volume for a second before continuing in a lower tone. “You know, I made sure not to attack you.”

“I know, but –” Kurt cut himself off as Mark came over to them.

“Sorry I missed you guys this weekend,” Mark said as a greeting. “Lance, you’ll have to join us at lunch so we can catch up.”

“Sounds good,” Kurt replied, wanting to wave Mark off without being rude so he and Lance could finish their conversation.

“Yeah, lunch,” Lance agreed.

“Cool. Catch you guys tomorrow, then.” Mark slung his bag over his shoulder and headed off, leaving just Jose left in the locker room.

Kurt waited impatiently for him to pack up his stuff, toying with his water bottle before placing it beside him. Finally, Jose bid them goodnight, leaving just them two of them alone again.

“But what?” Lance asked. He had his arms crossed, as if wary of Kurt’s reply.

“Well, you almost killed an old couple.”

“You saved them, didn’t you? So why should it matter?”

“What if I hadn’t?”

Lance stood up and began pacing. “Well, then…” He swiftly turned towards Kurt, gesturing in belligerence. “You just don’t get it. You just don’t like that I’m with the Brotherhood.”

Kurt stood up too, the bench creating a barrier between them. “That’s cause all the Brotherhood stands for is superiority at the expense of innocent people.” Why couldn’t Lance see just how wrong the Brotherhood was?

“More like we stand for our right to exist. If others get in our way, then that’s their fault.”

“That’s not fair. People aren’t even _aware_ we exist.”

“And what. You think that’d make a difference? You think anyone here would accept you as you really are?”

Kurt leaned back against his locker, feeling a slight wave of dizziness, but passed it off as not having any water until after practice. “Considering you don’t even.”

“What does that mean?” Lance’s tone was indignant. Any hopes Kurt had of having a civil conversation had long vanished.

“It’s not like you’re actually going to sit with Mark and me at lunch tomorrow. You couldn’t stand being seen with me where others might see.”

“Pietro and them wouldn’t understand if we started hanging out together suddenly.”

“So? You’re just ashamed that-” Kurt paused in what he was saying, suddenly feeling the locker room start to tilt. Maybe he just needed to sit down for a second.

“Fucking Christ, stop putting words into my mouth. I’m not ashamed. They’d probably start picking fights with you and probably me too.”

Kurt rested his head against his hand, trying to make his vertigo pass. “I thought you were trying to be better. Like you said at the park.”

Lance’s eyes grew wild with anger. “Are you kidding me? That’s so fucking low. I’m entitled to my own opinions, and…”

Kurt regretted saying that, but felt it hard to concentrate on the conversation. He let whatever Lance yell rush pass him, hoping that Lance would eventually run out of steam. There was a pause, and Kurt realized he was awaiting a response from him. Kurt had no idea what Lance had said and so just shrugged.

“Fine, whatever. I can see you care so much about this.” In a huff, Lance turned around and left, not even grabbing his bag resting by his locker.

Kurt sat on the bench, feeling sick with regret on how the conversation ended, as well as overwhelmed by a rising dizziness.

Feeling a weight settle down next to him, Kurt peeked from his hand, hoping to see Lance but his stomach about dropped out when he spotted Trieg.

“Heard you and Alvers arguing. Everything ok?”

Kurt nodded as he stood up away from Trieg. That was a mistake. The locker room spun around him, and Kurt ended up leaning onto his locker shelf for support.

Trieg sighed. “I’m tired of this game.” He stood up behind Kurt, reaching for his waist, but despite his wooziness, Kurt was not going to let Trieg touch him again. He tried elbowing Trieg, but his thrust came out weak. Something was really wrong with him.

Angered by Kurt’s inept defense, Trieg growled, “Why won’t you do as I say?” He roughly pulled Kurt away from his locker and back against his chest.

“Let me tell you exactly what I’m going to do,” Trieg said as he backed them up to the bench. Forcing Kurt down onto the bench, Trieg sat astride behind him. “I’m going to take my huge cock and it’s gonna be dripping with cum.” Trieg drew one of Kurt’s leg over the bench, so that he sat squarely between Trieg’s legs. The clattering of his water bottle being knocked off the bench and rolling on the floor seemed deafening loud only to be replaced by Trieg’s heavy breathing in his ear.

Pressed so close to Trieg, he could feel Trieg’s threat jutting into his back.

“Then you’ll lick it up like a fucking dog on your knees. My cum will be on your lips.” Trieg stroked his thumb over Kurt’s lips. “In your fucking mouth, and you’ll swallow it like candy.” He dipped his finger into Kurt’s mouth before rubbing it back over his lips again. “Then I’m going to take some lube and make you rub my cock. Fucking up and down like a goddamn whore.”

As if to demonstrate, Trieg started to dip his hand underneath Kurt’s pants.

Kurt didn’t care anymore if Trieg found out about his ability. He couldn’t let Trieg do this. But instead of the familiar pull of teleportation, Kurt almost blacked out. Black spots filled his vision before fading away. Panic set in. He couldn’t escape. He tried to force Trieg’s hands away, but it was like an infant battling a tiger. He tried teleporting again, but this time he was completely enervated. He would’ve tipped forward if not for Trieg holding him up. Not willing to risk passing out, he didn’t attempt a third port.

By now, Trieg was aware something was different about Kurt. He had stopped his hand’s downward journey. “What is this?” Trieg began feeling under Kurt’s shirt, running his hands slowly up and down his chest, as if both exploring and caressing at once.

Suddenly, Trieg hauled Kurt up and then threw him on his back onto the floor between the two sets of benches lining the lockers. Immediately, Kurt tried to back away, but he couldn’t move fast enough. Before Kurt could turn around to get up, Trieg had forced him back over and straddled down on top of him. Kurt let out a sob half in protest and half in fear, but Trieg ignored him. Wasting no time, he began to lift Kurt’s shirts up.

“It feels like… fur? But…” Trieg started to say.

Kurt tried to fight back but all of his energy felt sapped – his movements feeble and slow.

After marveling a bit longer, Trieg smiled. “It’s strange but soft. I don’t understand how it’s possible, but I think I like it.” His hands grew aggressive, pausing places, dipping slightly beneath his pants.

“Stop, please.” Kurt’s protest came out weak. He felt like he could barely lift his arms or tail, like a butterfly pinned in a case.

For a second, Trieg paused to muse at Kurt’s pathetic struggling. “Shh.” He brushed away some of Kurt’s hair from his face. “I told you to listen to me but you wouldn’t.” Forcing Kurt to sit up slightly, he started lifting Kurt’s shirts up completely now. “So I had to make you listen. Make it so that you’d be ready.” His undershirt was tight and felt suffocating as it passed over his head. “You see how much you want this? I’m just helping you. Letting you get what you want. It’s going to be a gift, when I put my cock in you and fuck you so hard. ”

By now, his shirts had become entangled on his wrists. Trieg pulled roughly but the undershirt had caught up against Kurt’s inducer. After one forceful tug, his ersatz image faded away, the switch toggled by his bunched shirt.

Trieg stopped and stared. He shoved Kurt’s hands, still entangled in his shirt, above his head.

Spread out beneath Trieg, Kurt found it difficult to breath. The floor felt like it was swaying back and forth beneath him and he couldn’t stop Trieg from talking, from touching him, from staring. He couldn’t even tear his hands free from the makeshift restraint of his shirts. He felt helpless and exposed. His stomach roiled in fear.

Trieg touched his face, turning it from side to side before letting his hands trail down his body. Kurt felt like a slab of meat being inspected and examined.

“ _B-bitte._ ” He tried again, desperate.

Finally, Trieg exhaled out. “I knew you were different. Special. But this…” He ran a finger over one of Kurt’s ears to the pointed tip. “And the fur. I knew I felt it. I just never thought…”

Kurt had desperately wanted Trieg to be revolted, but instead he could feel a bulge against his thigh.

“I wonder...” Trieg ground his erection against him while continuing to run his hands across his chest, up his arms before returning to caress his face. With Trieg stroking his face, Kurt could see the lust in his eyes. Eyes that bored into him as the rest of the room spun around like a merry-go-round. Kurt tried to turn away from his stare, but Trieg forcefully grabbed his hair so tightly he couldn’t move his head away. Bending down, Trieg kissed Kurt roughly. His other hand grabbed Kurt’s jaw, forcing his mouth open slightly so that he could dip his tongue inside. Kurt tried to bite down but Trieg’s grip was like a vice. He could practically feel hairs being ripped from his head while the other hand was sure to leave a strange set of bruises along his jawline. As he began to withdraw, Trieg bit down on Kurt’s lip, drawing blood as if to mark him.

Trieg sat back and watched the blood well up on Kurt’s lip. He grinded himself against Kurt again while leaning down to lick the blood off Kurt’s lip. He broke off continuing on his thought from before. “I wonder just how much of you is covered in fur. Is it _everywhere_?”

With that, Trieg began to push Kurt’s pants down.

A feeling of hopelessness encroached on Kurt. His hands trapped, deprived of teleportation, the only thing Kurt could do was beg Trieg to stop. But any plea was in vain.

 

 

 

Lance really didn’t want to go back to the locker room, but he had stupidly forgotten his bag. He could only hope that Kurt wasn’t there anymore. He didn’t want to repeat that conversation, especially now that he was so fucking furious. Angry at himself for letting himself get so angry and angry at Kurt for not just accepting that he was with the Brotherhood. How come he got to be so high and mighty? Lance wanted to punch something. And he was desperately trying to bury that feeling of disappointment. If they couldn’t get over this, then where would that put their friendship? Or more? Lance scoffed at himself. There was no more. That was only in his mind and there it would stay.

Any grumblings to himself were instantly cut off as soon as he opened the door to the locker room. The scene that greeted him left him staring in shock. Trieg was straddling Kurt, an uninducered Kurt. No, not just straddling but grinding himself against him before licking his lip. Lance was frozen to his spot. It was surreal, like a horrible nightmare displayed before him.

Finally, Trieg’s voice broke the spell over Lance. He felt ashamed that he had had the same question as Trieg, but he couldn’t worry about that now.

Lance clenched his fists. His anger, already at the surface, sprung lose. He stepped into the locker room, uncontrolled tremors vibrating out. “Get off of him. _Now_.”

Trieg looked up in surprise, but remained on top of Kurt. “Alvers. I suggest you leave.”

Furious that Trieg seemed unconcerned and hadn’t even removed his hands from Kurt’s pants, Lance didn’t hold back his wrath. The whole room started to shake. A few lockers fell over, making a loud clang that reverberated throughout the room.

Finally, a shocked expression spreading over his face, Trieg stood up off of Kurt.

“Yeah, that’s me, you fucking asshole. You better get the fuck out of here before I open a goddamn hole underneath you.”

Trieg hesitated and looked down at his prey who was so vulnerable and ready for him.

Not liking the lascivious look Trieg gave Kurt, Lance released another tremor. “Fucking _now_!”

Fully realizing the danger Lance posed, Trieg bolted out of the room. Lance wanted desperately to follow him and beat the shit out of him, but he restrained himself, knowing that Kurt needed him.

Trying not to shake in anger, Lance knelt down next to Kurt. He didn’t understand why Kurt remained lying there, but decided to help him sit up. He leaned Kurt’s upper body against one of the benches before standing up.

Why Kurt wasn’t doing anything? Why did he let Trieg just use him? His simmering fury broke free again. He began pacing around the locker room, gesticulating wildly. “Fucking Christ. Why the fuck didn’t you teleport out? Are you fucking stupid? This isn’t something to fucking –“ Lance stopped mid-rant, noticing that Kurt seemed to be shaking while making small struggles to free his hands from his shirts.

“Fuck,” Lance mumbled under his breath before going over to help. Now was not the time for him to explode. It was just first their argument and then this. He needed to calm himself down. Taking deep breaths, he pulled Kurt’s hands free, letting the intertwined shirts drop to the floor. “Ok, right. Sorry. I’m calming down. Are _you_ okay?”

Kurt shook his head, hair curtaining off his face.

“Right, stupid question. Let’s get you off the floor.” Lance struggled to settle Kurt on to the bench. It was like he was maneuvering a limp ragdoll. After a few grunts, Lance settled them both on the bench in front of Kurt’s locker. Kurt practically leaned against him completely, as if he couldn’t sit up on his own.

Finally getting a look at Kurt’s face, Lance saw that his eyes were all glassy and unfocused. “What’s wrong with you?”

He waited a second as Kurt gathered his thoughts.

His voice came out slightly slurred and accent thick. “ _Ich denke_ …” Kurt paused to refocus his thoughts. “I think Trieg drugged me.”

“What? How?”

“My _wasserflasche._ ”

It took Lance a second to figure out what Kurt meant but _wasser_ wasn’t that hard to translate. He saw the innocuous bottle lying flat on its side, just peeking out from under the bench.

The small amount of water left swished as Lance picked it up. The contents looked normal but Lance remembered Kurt downing it just after practice. It was the only explanation. Putting it down beside him, Lance’s mind scrambled to come up with a plan of action.

Kurt’s shaking had barely subsided. Unsure, Lance hesitatingly put his hand on Kurt’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” Lance wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for, but he didn’t know what else to say.

Kurt shook his head in response. Lance didn’t know if he was trying to clear his thoughts or wave off Lance’s apology. “Just want to go home.”

“Yeah. Let me get my stuff.” Lance slowly stood up, helping Kurt to rest his hands against the bench to stay upright.

He quickly retrieved his bag, wanting to get out of there in case Trieg changed his mind. He stuffed Kurt’s water bottle into his bag, figuring that it might be of use to determine what Trieg had exactly drugged Kurt with.

Looking over at Kurt, observing his half-clothed state and quivering form, Lance felt sick. What would have happened if he hadn’t come in? Trying not to think of what could’ve been, Lance dug around in his backpack for his cellphone. He paused, realizing how idiotic it would be to call a Brotherhood member. Kurt didn’t need that right now.

Instead, Lance walked over to Kurt’s locker, looking for his phone.

                “Hey, I’m going to use your cellphone to call us a ride. What’s your password?” Lance asked as he finally found it hidden under a shirt.

Not receiving a response, Lance turned towards Kurt. He sat down next to him again, and pushed him up a bit to grab his attention. “Hey. You gotta focus, ok. I need-” Lance pushed down on the power button and didn’t receive a response. Dead. Fucking Murphy’s Law.

“ _Was_?”

“Nothing. We gotta walk. Hang on.” Lance stood up to retrieve Kurt’s shirt from his locker and then threw his dead cellphone and the rest of his stuff in his bag. “Let’s put this on you.” After a bit of a struggle – it’s not easy putting a shirt on someone else – Lance succeeded. “Can you turn on your inducer? It’s going to be a bit of a walk.”

Kurt nodded and fumbled a bit before pushing the correct button.

Now looking like two normal teens, Lance grabbed their bags before helping Kurt up. It was going to be a long trek to the mansion.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I agonized over this chapter - writing and revising it to make it somewhat work. Conversations like this are just tough to write.
> 
> Also, thank you so much for those who reviewed! It really brightened my days when I received one! I'm glad to know there are some people out there enjoying it. :)

** Chapter 8 **

 

The setting sun glinted off of the few remaining cars in the parking lot as Lance and Kurt stumbled towards the tree-lined sidewalk. Kurt could barely keep himself upright, let alone walk on his own. One of his arms was thrown over Lance’s shoulder while his weight was support by Lance’s arm entwined about his waist. His head was bent forward, as if even that was too much effort to lift. A light breeze ruffled through Lance’s hair and Kurt’s fur, stirring the leaves across their feet as they finally lurched onto the sidewalk.

As they staggered along, the silence seemed overwhelming, broken only by the intermittent crunching of dry leaves. Lance didn’t know what he could say. A thousand thoughts ran through his mind but none he could grasp and form into words. Besides, he doubt Kurt would absorb any platitudes he could think of. With each step, Kurt was resting more and more of his weight on Lance. His body was drooping forward as if a weight was tied around his neck. Lance was sure that to any passing cars, they looked like a pair of drunken teens weaving along the path.

He couldn’t shake the image of Trieg lying on Kurt, intimately licking his lip. His breath quickened as he replayed it on loop in his head. What had transpired before? What about before even today? Had Kurt lied about what Trieg had done? Could Lance have –

His endless barrage of unanswerable questions was interrupted as Kurt tripped over a treacherous section of the sidewalk. Somehow, Lance managed to maintain his balance and kept them both from a harsh landing. Looking back, Lance saw that a tree root had entrenched itself under the sidewalk, causing the concrete to buckle.

“You okay?”

After a beat, Lance received a slight nod and for a few more steps, they wobbled along.

Now was not the time for him to worry about what had been. He just needed to make sure he got Kurt home. He didn’t know how Professor Xavier could help, but Lance was at a loss. Besides, it’s not like he could take on a teacher at the school. Something needed to happen and if Lance had to turn to the X-men to protect his friend, then so be it.

But this wasn’t working. Judging by the sliver of red on the horizon, it had nearly been fifteen minutes since they left the school and they had barely made any headway. Half afraid that they would be stopped by some busybody who suspected them of imbibing, Lance looked for a place he could rest for a spell.

Spotting a section of sidewalk where a few brown leaves clung tenaciously to a group of trees, Lance swerved them in that direction. He led them behind a particularly thick trunk so they could be blocked from any prying eyes. As Lance slowly let go, Kurt practically melted to the ground. Knees splayed under him, he rested most of his weight on his hands as he leaned forward. Lance knelt down beside him on to the carpet of leaves covering the grass. He hesitated a second before placing a reassuring hand on Kurt’s shoulder to give physical and mental support.

“Hey, how’re you holding up?”

After a few seconds, Lance was almost sure that Kurt hadn’t heard him or was too far gone, until he received a quivering, unintelligible reply. Lance couldn’t tell if what Kurt said was heavily accented English or in German. Perhaps the drug had affected Kurt so much that he was having difficulty talking in his non-native language.

“Um, was that English or German?” Lance asked.

“I don’t want to go.” Kurt began, his accent still thick but he was trying his best to enunciate clearly enough for Lance to understand.

“Go?”

“To the mansion.” Kurt’s head was still hanging down, so Lance couldn’t tell what expression crossed his face.

“But, you said you wanted to go home, right? And they can help and…” Lance trailed off as Kurt started speaking.

“Then they’ll know,” he said in a bare whisper.

Lance couldn’t stand it anymore. He reached forward to gently push back Kurt’s hair and tilt his head so he could see his eyes. He could see fear mixed in with despair as barely held back tears gathered in his eyes.

“Whatever it is you’re thinking, you need to stop. It’ll be ok. They’ll help out. It’s what you guys do."

“I didn’t… I didn’t want Trieg to t-touch me.” By now, Kurt was holding on to Lance like a lifeline, his hands weakly grasping Lance’s shoulders.

Lance’s heart constricted at the desperation so blatantly displayed on Kurt’s face. The dried blood still smeared across his lips remained a testament to the violence that Trieg had employed.

Reaching out, he took Kurt’s shoulders in a reassuring hold. “I know.” Lance didn’t receive any response to that. Only the noise of the traffic muffled by the trees breached the silence. He let Kurt recompose himself, familiar with how embarrassing it was to be so vulnerable in front of someone, even if it was a friend. After a minute or two, knowing they couldn’t stay crouched there forever, Lance said, “I don’t think we can get much further walking like this.”

“It’s hard to… _konzentrieren. Gott._ Everything’s still spinning.” Kurt’s hands had fallen from Lance’s shoulders and were once again supporting his weight as he leaned heavily against them.

“Then that decides it. I’m going to carry you. No protesting,” Lance commanded as he combined both of their bags into one that he could sling over his back. Standing up first, Lance helped Kurt up to his feet. Kurt leaned into his chest, still unable to remain upright on his own. Under different circumstances, Lance would’ve been excited by their close proximity. However, the only emotions he could feel were a deep despondency and barely capped rage at Trieg.

Bending down, Lance gathered Kurt up so that he was holding him bridal style.

“Better?”

Kurt rested his head against Lance’s chest before shaking his head in response to Lance’s question.

“What the hell did Trieg give you?” Lance angrily muttered to himself. He brought them back to the sidewalk and headed on their way.

The sun had not lingered. For brief instances, Lance and Kurt were illuminated by passing cars’ headlights before again being shadowed by the night. The closer they got to the mansion, the lighter traffic became until scarce cars were on the road. This was fine by Lance. It was a private moment, and he was doing his best to radiate out any comfort he could to Kurt.

It still took a good bit to reach the mansion even though their pace was faster now that Lance was carrying Kurt.

Lance had to battle to open the gate to the mansion, but seeing their destination looming out of the darkness was a relief. Outside of the wooden front doors, Lance put Kurt down so that he could have a hand free. Deprived of all strength, Kurt sunk to the ground.

Before Lance could even get a chance to knock, the door was thrown open, golden light from the front hallway streamed down upon them.

“Where is he?” Logan demanded as his stare pierced through Lance.

A bit startled, Lance recovered quickly. He didn’t answer him, but instead helped Kurt up again. They staggered into the open door, forcing Logan to move aside.

Lance paused, unsure of where to go.

“In there,” Logan pointed down the hallway to the living room where soft yellow emanated.

Their wavering walk almost caused them to trip over the clawed foot of a wooden entry table, but Lance was able to catch himself on the edge. He could hear Logan’s growls of impatience and anger, but he didn’t seem to be willing to help. He hoisted them back up, and not wanting to be subjected to Logan’s judgment any longer, made the executive decision to just carry Kurt the rest of the way.

As expected, Professor Xavier awaited them in the living room. Ignoring him too, Lance walked across the plush rug to lay Kurt upon the mahogany leather couch. Lance had no idea how this impending conversation was going to go. All he really wanted to do was just sit by Kurt. Not deal with the inevitable yelling and blame dealing.

And sure enough, as soon as Logan entered, the diatribe started.

“What the hell were you two doing? Getting here so late. And why the hell were you and Kurt hanging out together? What, did you two decide to become drinking buddies? Getting drunk on a school night too.”

“Logan, enough,” Professor X said, but Logan wasn’t finished yet.

“No, I don’t think so, Chuck. Of Lance, I expected this. But of Kurt? What an irresponsible, bone-headed thing to do. And not just drunk, but black-out drunk… ”

Logan continued on, but Lance had had enough. He was infuriated. This was not what Kurt or even himself needed right now. He watched as Kurt curled in on himself as if he could block out Logan’s rant.

“He’s not drunk, you fucking idiot! He’s drugged.” That shut him up.

A shock spread through the room before Professor X spoke. “What do you mean, drugged? Please explain.”

At first, Lance wanted to refuse just to be obstinate, but he knew that would be childish and unhelpful. Still, he hesitated. He looked towards the open archway that led to the grand hallway and staircase. He really didn’t want any of the others to listen in.

“I assure you, no one else will be intruding upon this conversation. Please speak freely.”

Figuring that the Professor would at least respect Kurt enough to guarantee privacy, Lance recounted what he had walked in on in the locker room. There wasn’t much to tell as he only caught the end of the incident, but nevertheless, it was draining to have to relive those tense moments again. As he finished, he sank into a soft armchair across from Logan whose fists were strained with contained rage.

A silence permeated the room.

Lance felt like he was about to burst from the tension before the Professor said, “Thank you, for helping Kurt tonight. I know you two have your differences, but tonight you really showed a true strength of character.”

“We don’t anymore.” Receiving a questioning look from Professor X, Lance continued. “We don’t have differences. Well, we do I guess. Kinda big ones, but it doesn’t matter. We’re friends.” It was strange, saying those words out loud, but Lance wasn’t going to back down.

“Oh.”

Growing defensive, Lance’s voice rose. “Yeah, oh. And you can’t do anything about it.”

The Professor held up a hand to stave off Lance’s anger. “That wasn’t my intent. It was merely surprising as I hadn’t heard Kurt mention this, but then again neither have I heard anything about Coach Trieg. He can be very private.”

“Yeah. He never mentioned anything to me either. But…” Lance trailed off, thinking of all the times he dismissed Trieg’s closeness or the times when Kurt had seemed distressed after one of his “conversations” with Trieg.

“Do you know how long this has been going on?”

Lance shook his head. “I dunno. But there’s been moments. Like once I caught Trieg really close to Kurt in the locker room. Kurt said that Trieg had been kinda touchy but never like that. That was just last Friday. God, I told him to go talk to Trieg. That he could sort it out that way. How fucking naive.”

“You didn’t know. None of us know to what extent this has been happening.”

“Why didn’t he say anything?” Logan finally chimed in. Lance had thought he had shut down, his brain too primal to deal with something so complicated.

Still, Lance had been asking himself that same question. It was a horrible thought, but somehow knowing that Kurt hadn’t said anything to Professor X or the others made him feel pleased.

“If I hadn’t forgotten my bag…” Lance thought out loud.

“No more what ifs and we’ll deal with the whys later. All I’m concerned with is the now.” With that the Professor wheeled over to Kurt. “Kurt, can you please look at me?” He requested.

After a second, Kurt slowly turned over to face the Professor. Gently, the Professor took Kurt’s hand and removed his inducer. The ersatz image faded away, revealing his true self. Not voicing his opinion, Lance was silently glad that the Professor had taken it off. Sometimes it felt like Kurt used it to hide.

The watch clunked as it was set on the side table.

“I assume you’ve been listening.”

“ _Ja_ ,” came the tired response.

“How are you feeling?”

This time the Professor only received squeezed eyes and a slight shake of a head.

“Perhaps I should have Hank come and examine you. How long has it been since he ingested the drug?”

It took Lance a second to realize the Professor was addressing him. Looking towards the clock on the mantle, Lance briefly calculated in his head. “Probably at least 2 hours. It was kinda a long walk here.”

“I imagine.”

“Two hours. How long will it take for it to run through his system?” Logan asked, now coming to stand behind Professor X. Though his stance was tense, his softened tone reflected his concern for his student.

“I’m unsure. I’ll have Hank up here briefly.”

The Professor closed his eyes, blocking out the rest of the room. Lance assumed the Professor was contacting Dr. McCoy via telepathy.

“There’s blood on his lips,” Logan observed as he turned, what seemed to Lance, an accusing stare towards him.

“All I saw was Trieg licking it from his lips when I walked in,” Lance responded, arms crossed over his chest.

Logan’s face darkened. “That little detail just slip your mind? How long did it really take for you to act?”

“And what does that mean?” Lance returned just as snidely.

“You heard me. You and Kurt never got along before and now suddenly you’re his hero? I bet you stood there watching for a bit. Getting some vengeance kick…”

“Stop, _bitte_ ,” Kurt pleaded, voice faint and unheeded. He had thrown a hand up to his head, as if somehow he could contain his rotating world. Everyone’s voice was like a bombardment of ping pong balls, bouncing rapidly about his head. He just needed solitude and quiet, but even closing his eyes didn’t help. In fact, it almost made it worse - like he was in a whirling vortex of blackness. With his eyes open, at least he could see the room and feel grounded. He tried to focus on the feel of his hand on his head. It didn’t help.

The cacophony of the argument was reaching a crescendo when suddenly the Professor barked out, “Both of you. That’s enough.” The immediate silence was a blessing. Now that he had their attention, the Professor calmly tried to bring the tension of the room down. “I know emotions are high right now, but it’s better if we did our best to remain calm.” He directed a meaningful glance from Logan and Lance, making sure he had their gazes before directing them to Kurt’s pitiful form.

“Right. Sorry, kid,” Logan grumbled out.

Lance didn’t know if Logan was directing that to him or Kurt, so didn’t say anything. He did, however, relax his stance.

“Now, Kurt. You’ll have to do your best to be as forthcoming as possible with Hank. You can’t hold back how you’re feeling,” the Professor said. After receiving no response, the Professor tried again. “Kurt?”

“… _Ja_ , okay.”

It didn’t take long for a concerned Hank to join them. His face was awash with worry, but as soon as he knelt down beside Kurt, he regained his composure, ready to instill comfort to his patient.

After taking Kurt’s pulse and shining a penlight into his glassy eyes, Hank asked a few questions directed towards Kurt and Lance. It was a bit of a struggle to get Kurt to answer clearly - his slurred accent obscuring his answers or with the need to stop a few times to refocus his attention.

Hank sank back onto his haunches before voicing his thoughts. “I’m unclear as to what drug was employed. If only I had a sample, then I’d be able to determine its effects. But I suppose I could draw some of Kurt’s blood and -”

“Actually,” Lance began as he bent down to pick up his and Kurt’s bags, “there was still water left in Kurt’s water bottle. I think that’s what Trieg used.” He rummaged around a bit before pulling out said navy blue water bottle.

“That is fortuitous,” Hank said as he retrieved the bottle from Lance. “It will take awhile for me to examine it, though.”

“How long do you think he’ll be like this?” Logan asked as he gestured towards Kurt who had his eyes partly closed.

“With Kurt’s faster metabolism, I believe the drug was able to act more rapidly and became more potent. It might have a longer effect than usual. Once I determine the exact drug used, I will relay more detailed information.” Concern blatant on his face, Hank looked back at Kurt. “For now, perhaps it would be best if he slept it off as there doesn’t seem to be any severe detrimental side effects.”

“Sounds like the best course of action right now,” the Professor said.

Lance couldn’t help but agree. Kurt looked absolutely drained, and if Lance was in his position, all he’d want to do is curl up in his bed and shut out the rest of the world.  

“I‘ll take him up to his room.” Logan walked over to Kurt and easily picked him up off the couch. Kurt didn’t protest but merely slid a boneless arm around Logan’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt mumbled into Logan’s chest.

“It’s no problem carrying you.”

Kurt shook his head, frustrated that Logan had misunderstood. “Sorry about...” He trailed off, but this time Logan cottoned on.

“Don’t apologize. What happened wasn’t your fault.” Logan barely prevented himself from growling that out, suppressing his anger at this Coach Trieg so as to not agitate Kurt. He exchanged worried looks with everyone else in the room.

“Thank you, Logan. Please stay with him until I finish down here. Then, I will monitor him as a precaution through the night,” the Professor said.

Logan nodded and started making his way out of the living room, but a light tug on his shirt brought him to a halt. Looking down, he saw that Kurt was struggling to focus to relay something.

“Video. In the locker room.”

“You’re not making much sense, Elf.”

“No, wait!” Lance interjected. He walked around the coffee table towards Logan. “The school put up some video cameras in the locker room to stop people from stealing shit. I bet it caught the whole thing.”

The Professor leaned forward. “You said that Kurt’s inducer was off when you walked in.”

“Yeah.”

“And that you used your powers.”

“Yeah, what of it.” Lance crossed his arms. Sure that the Professor was going to reprimand him.

“Then we must take all precautions. If Trieg is aware of the video…. We simply cannot let him have such leverage in his hands. Logan, I’m counting on you to retrieve it. The sooner, the better.”

Logan sharply nodded his head before continuing up the stairs.

“I will head to my lab and see what I can determine,” Hank said as he held aloft the water bottle.

Leaving just the Professor and Lance.

Lance shuffled his feet, feeling awkward.

“I want to thank you, Lance.”

“Oh yeah?” Lance said sarcastically, still unsure of his reception by the X-men.

“Yes, I do. Without your intervention, tonight could’ve gone horribly different.”

It was silly, but the Professor’s genuine gratitude kinda made Lance feel like a hero. He liked it.

“There is always room at the mansion for one more.” The Professor’s gaze was sharp and piercing. He didn’t mean just staying for the night.

“Thanks but no thanks.” He may’ve helped Kurt and always would. He may, possibly, perhaps, most likely even have a crush on him, but after tonight, he was more convinced that the Brotherhood was right. Humanity was scum.

The Professor just nodded in response as he gestured towards the front door. “If you don’t mind, I’ll call for Ororo to come and give you a ride home.”

Lance would’ve preferred to refuse but it was a long trek back. “Thanks,” he mumbled. He was not looking forward to the awkward car ride.

 

 QQQQQQQQQQQ

 

The mid-afternoon sun brought slight warmth on a rather chilly day. Lance kicked through the leaves covering the ground as he made his way through the tree-covered path to the park proper. He had ditched school early - skipping last period and gymnastics practice. He had been halfway to the X-mansion before he even realized where he was headed. But he couldn’t just show up at the door unannounced. So, instead he had pulled off into the tiny, secluded park Kurt had introduced to him.

He sighed in relief as he saw that he had the park to himself. He made his way to one of the two picnic tables and climbed up to sit. With arms resting on knees, at first, Lance just stared, sorting his thoughts. He sat and watched a lone paper bag drift across the rest of the dried grass until it finally caught up on a lower branch of a tree.

Without thinking, he pulled out his cellphone but didn’t unlock it. It remained clutched in his hand unused. He wanted to desperately text Kurt. To ask him how he was doing. He wanted to tell him how he almost slugged Trieg when he caught sight of him and had ended up skipping practice. And what about Mark? Should he tell him anything even? He hadn’t sat with him at lunch, knowing Mark would ask about Kurt, and that there was no way Lance could’ve controlled his emotions to not reveal that something had happened.

Knowing he couldn’t put all his thoughts in a text, he shoved his unused phone back in his pocket. Could he have done something different yesterday or even before then? He should’ve seen it. Should’ve made sure that Kurt wasn’t skimping on the truth. How long had Trieg been even doing it and to what extent?

He fault nauseous each time he thought of it. The locker room scene flashed again in front of his eyes. He desperately wanted to see the video Logan had probably retrieved – to know everything that had happened before he’d walked in - but at the same time wanted to burn the evidence in a smoldering pile - preferably on top of Trieg’s dick.

Lance’s violent thoughts were interrupted as a group of college-aged guys waltzed into his park. They were holding a basketball and barely even spared him a glance as they started up their game. Annoyed, Lance threw them a few dirty looks, but they didn’t seem to notice. Trying to block out the echoing, rhythmic sound as the basketball hit the concrete, he gazed up at Kurt’s Frisbee still wedged in the tree.

Staring at the disc – its bright red blurring with the dark branches of the trees - his mind fell easily back into its rumination. On their walk home. That despair that had lingered on Kurt’s face and his barely contained tears. What if even now he was in his bedroom, distraught and alone? He wanted to be there with him. To kiss his tears. Lance jerked back at that thought. Not only was he back to his stupid crush, it was a flight of extreme mushiness. Some ridiculous cliché that he’d seen in movies, but still… that desire to ease Kurt’s pain was there. It wouldn’t work like in the movies as some magical kiss that would vanquish all problems. Besides, he’d never do something so… so white knight. And he doubt Kurt would appreciate it much either. But still he wanted to, needed to do something.

He sighed to himself. How was it that once he realized he liked Kurt in that way that all his thoughts had to betray him, especially after he tried to bury them under 10 feet of denial. He really wanted to talk to someone about this but the only other one besides Kurt was Mark. What would Mark even say or think? Maybe he could help him get past this strange aberration. Get back to normality.

Any more of his thoughts were interrupted as a hand waved in front of his face.

“Yoo hoo, earth to strange kid sitting on the bench.”

Lance looked up, disgruntled at being disturbed. “What?”

One of the college boys was standing in front of him, sweat glistening from his shaved head. “You play ball? We lost a member due to girlfriend duties.”

Lance’s first inclination was to refuse, but maybe it would be good to get a break from his thoughts. “Yeah, sure. Just make sure I’m on the winning team.”

The boy chuckled. “You’ll be on mine, so no problem there.”

Lance spent the rest of the afternoon, playing the pickup game, his problems shunted to one side for the time being.

 

 

Kurt sat pensively on the floor with his legs curled up, arms hugged around his knees while leaning his back against his bed. The gauzy curtains fluttered in the slight breeze flowing in from the open French doors. He stared outside at the bare limbs of the giant Oak that stood guard over his room.

Or more like he stared straight past the majestic tree, wrapped up in his thoughts. Yesterday had been difficult to say the least. He had lain awake most of the night and half of the day, encumbered by the ceaseless movement of the room around him. Said sensation followed him into any small amount of sleep he did happen to catch. It was like being stuck on a teacup ride he couldn’t get off. He remembered Logan, Professor X, or Hank checking in on him or having hushed conversations near the threshold to his room. But it wasn’t until late afternoon that the fog lifted and relief came in the form of deep sleep. He must’ve slept for a long while after as it was morning light the next time he woke. For a moment, he had remained tucked under the covers, hoping that the recollection of that night would scatter like a fading nightmare. Instead, those memories bubbled up to the surface of his thoughts like acid.

Though he had no intention on going to school, he had gone through his morning routine, hoping the rote motions would help keep his thoughts at bay. The shower felt nice and so did getting into clean clothes; but otherwise, his mind remained turbulent.

And so he ended curled up on the floor, his damp hair most likely leaving a wet spot on his bedspread behind him.

Just knowing that Professor X and them knew…

And Lance…

His agonizing was interrupted by the shuffling of heavy footsteps and accompanying weighty sigh that belonged to Logan.

“Hey.”

Kurt huddled deeper into himself, but responded with a small, “Hey.” He was almost afraid of looking back to see Logan’s expression.

There was a pause of uncomfortable silence before Logan spoke up again. “Breakfast?”

Kurt just shook his head. He was in no mood to eat.

Logan gave a noncommittal reply.

This time Kurt did risk a peek at Logan. He wasn’t getting much idea into Logan’s thoughts from his monotonous responses. He stood with his burly arms crossed, gaze focused out the doors. His expression stony. Logan must’ve sensed him looking as his eyes slid to meet his.

Kurt quickly looked away.

After a pause where Kurt was sure Logan’s intense gaze was studying him, Logan finally said, “It’s time the Professor and you and I have a talk.”

Kurt knew the moment Logan walked in that this was inevitable. He squeezed his knees, dreading the conversation, but in the end just nodded reluctantly before standing up.

The walk downstairs to the Professor’s office was long and just as full of awkward silence as Logan’s visit to his room. The Professor was typing away at his keyboard upon their entry into the office. The wooden blinds were raised to let the morning light stream through and coat the room in rich warm browns. Kurt wanted to run over and close them, as if he could prevent the rest of the world from hearing the impending conversation.

“Please, take a seat. This will be but a moment,” the Professor said as he looked up. A dim smile crossed his face in greeting before he returned to typing. Most likely a business email.

Feeling exposed standing, Kurt took Professor X’s offer and curled up in one of the leatherback seats that faced his desk. Logan sat in the other, leaning back in the chair - his crossed arms belying his relaxed posture. For a few minutes, just the sound of the clacking of the keyboard filled the room until finally the Professor turned away from his computer.

“I’m sorry for the delay,” the Professor said. “Kurt, how are you feeling?”

“Fine.” Kurt’s reply was automatic. Some habits were hard to break.

“So you feel no ill effects from the drug?” the Professor pressed.

“Like I finally stepped off an endless tilt-a-whirl, so that’s a plus,” Kurt tried to joke but his heart wasn’t in it. “ _Ja_ , I’m ok.”

“Hank finished examining the drug and said that there should be no other ill effects, but I want to confirm with you.”

Kurt shook his head. “No, I’m really ok.” Physically, it seemed he had recovered just fine now that the drug had passed through his system.

“Excellent,” the Professor said as he rolled around to stop in front of Logan and Kurt. This conversation was more personal, he didn’t want to seem barricaded behind his desk.

Kurt hugged his arms around his legs and looked away from him, anticipating the shift in tone.

The Professor’s expression turned grave. “In full disclosure, Logan, Ororo, Hank and I watched the video file Logan was able to retrieve.” Professor X took in the tensing of Kurt’s shoulders and his guarded posture and knew he had made the right decision to have just him and Logan present. With all the teachers present, the conversation would end up feeling more like an interrogation, which was precisely the exact opposite he was hoping to achieve. But it was still difficult to know how to proceed. “I am truly sorry that something like this happened. It was difficult to watch but necessary to have complete knowledge of the situation so we can handle it appropriately.”

Kurt felt a sickness spreading through him. Knowing that they had all seen what had happened. Knowing that his actions, or more like inactions, had led to this point. It was like his chest was being compressed.

“You know, this isn’t your fault,” Logan interrupted the impending silence.

Kurt slightly nodded his head. He saw the Professor exchange a look with Logan. They didn’t believe him. He didn’t even believe himself.

The Professor reaffirmed. “Logan is right. It is obvious from the video that you did resist him. Though, in those situations, please know you should absolutely use your powers to protect yourself. Your safety is my first concern.”

“I did try. But I couldn’t. I felt like I was going to pass out instead of teleporting.”

“Hank did say the drug was very potent,” Logan commented.

“It was awful. I couldn’t….” Kurt trailed off, remembering how helpless he felt but not knowing how to, not wanting to put that into words. And then there were the times when he could have teleported away and didn’t.…

The Professor waited, wanting to see if Kurt would continue, but Kurt could be particularly reticent, especially when it involved his own problems. When it was obvious that Kurt wasn’t going to continue, the Professor decided to steer the conversation as delicately as he could.

“Lance mentioned that this was not the first instance. Could you explain what he meant?”

Kurt felt like a hard lump was caught in his throat. He bought his knees up in front of him before answering in a shaky voice. “Coach Trieg, he… before this happened, he would….” He paused for a second, trying to rein in his emotions, but it was like trying to catch water with a sieve. Everything – the memories, shame and embarrassment - was too close. “It wasn’t as bad as what he did in the locker room. At first I thought it was just him being overly friendly or something. But then….” Kurt took a breath, trying to gather the courage. His fingers wrapped tightly around his arms. “…Other times… he touched me….” He finished in a bare whisper.

“Has he drugged you before then?” Logan’s voice seemed painfully loud.

The question cut deep and was enough to make Kurt relinquish the meager hold he had on his emotions. His voice hitched as silent tears escaped. He hid his face in the crook of his elbow that was resting on his knees. “No, I… just let him. I didn’t…I didn’t stop him.”

The Professor felt his heart clench. He regretted not inviting Ororo to this talk. Neither he nor Logan was demonstrative, but he couldn’t just sit passively while Kurt suffered. Yet what could he say?

Kurt continued on, “He probably thought it was ok. Like I consented and I let him go so far. Then –”

Logan abruptly stood up, causing Kurt to stop and briefly look up. He was worried about what Logan might do now that he knew the full truth. Was he going to just walk out in disgust?

Instead, Logan went to stand directly in front of Kurt and put both of his hands on Kurt’s shoulders. His grip was firm but not painful. “Look at me.”

Kurt surreptitiously wiped his eyes before returning Logan’s resolute stare.

“You are _not_ at fault. There is absolutely _no_ excuse for Trieg’s actions.”

Kurt couldn’t maintain Logan’s gaze. They just didn’t understand. “It wasn’t just one time that I let him…. And Coach Trieg said that –”

“Whatever that bastard said has no bearing. You hear me?” Logan shook Kurt, trying to emphasize his point. “ _None_ of what he said fucking matters.”

“Logan,” the Professor warned, which was enough to draw Logan’s attention to his growing temper. He took a step back, seeing that his burst of anger had caused Kurt to draw more in on himself if that was even possible. Breathing deeply, Logan got himself back under control.

Wanting to get back on track and to find out how exactly the situation came to this, the Professor asked, “Kurt, you said that Trieg was being overly friendly. Can you please explain what you mean?”

Kurt nodded but didn’t speak. It was just too difficult to start, to have to confess. He didn’t want to start crying again.

Seeing that he needed prompting, the Professor started asking guiding questions. “How long has this been happening?”

“I-I guess since gymnastics started but he wasn’t always so… intrusive.”

“By overly friendly, do you mean physically?”

“ _Ja_.”

“Like how Logan just put his hands on your shoulders?”

Kurt shook his head. Logan had never approached him the way Trieg had. How could he have ever thought that what Trieg did was normal? “No, it was different. With different intentions.”

“But then he grew more aggressive. Touching you.”

Each question was harder and harder to answer. Like hooks digging into his chest and being slowly pulled apart. This time, Kurt only nodded in response.

“When he touched you, did he touch you on top of or under your clothes?”

Mortified, Kurt barely whispered out, “On top of.” He couldn’t look at either of them and instead studied his knees.

“Could you tell us where?”

“A-Along my….” Kurt gripped his legs tight. It was like a physical hurt having to reveal everything Trieg did. “Along my thigh… and higher.” Just thinking about it, he could still feel his burning touch.

Logan’s heavy breathing caused Kurt to look up at him. His fists were in such tight grips, his knuckles were white.

“Did he ever force you to touch him?”

An overwhelming shame engulfed him, causing a few more tears to escape. “…Just once.”

“Just once is already too many.” Logan’s voice came out gruff but he didn’t say anything else.

“Was there a reason why you felt obligated to allow him such leeway?”

Kurt just shrugged. His reasoning before now just sounded so irrational and inane.

“Please, try to explain.”

“I dunno. I thought at first he was just being friendly in his own way. But then he started getting … bold.” Kurt glanced briefly at the Professor before quickly looking away. “And he said I should be listening to him and how disrespectful it was not to. That I should trust him.”

“Manipulative bastard,” Logan spat.

“Strange,” the Professor murmured.

Kurt looked over to him. So far, the Professor seemed to be remaining calm; his expression never wavered from composed, as if this was some normal, everyday occurrence. It somehow made him feel worse. Maybe it wasn’t such a big deal. It’s not like he was raped or anything.

“What’s strange?” Logan asked.

Unaware of the turmoil his forced calm was causing, the Professor voiced his thoughts. “At first, it sounds like Trieg was trying to manipulate you, but then suddenly he turned to drugging you to force you instead. Was there perhaps a catalyst, something that happened, that would cause him to resort to such tactics?”

Trieg’s veiled threat from Monday rang in Kurt’s ears. “I went to talk to him about it. Tell him I didn’t like it. He became forceful and… I pushed him off of me. He didn’t like that.”

“This was on Lance’s suggestion, correct?”

Kurt leaned forward. He didn’t want them to get the wrong impression of Lance. Not when Lance was trying to make efforts to change. “ _Ja_ , but don’t blame him. I didn’t tell him everything that Trieg was doing.”

“We don’t blame him, Elf. In fact, I’m pretty shocked at how much he seems to care,” Logan said as he sat back down. “But, why didn’t you say anything before? To us or anyone?”

Unable to put his reasoning into words, Kurt shrugged as he shrunk back into the chair.

Based on Kurt’s reactions and what he said so far, the Professor could tell that Kurt already placed unwarranted blame on himself. While he understand Logan’s confoundedness, he didn’t want Kurt to feel any more unnecessary culpability. “This isn’t something that is easy to discuss. With anyone. But I want you to know, that we’re here for you. It doesn’t matter that you couldn’t say anything before. Or even if you feel like you can’t say anything now. Just know that we’re here to help.”

Kurt didn’t say anything in response.

They all sat there for an uncomfortable minute, all stewing in their own thoughts.

“Can I leave now?” Kurt had wanted to escape through the whole conversation but now seemed like a perfect time to make his exit.

The Professor sighed, not knowing what else to say that could help him. “Yes, unless there’s anything else you’d like to tell us?”

A thousand thoughts ran through his head, but Kurt just shook his head no.

“Do your best to relax. When the others get home, Rogue will be bringing home make-up work for the rest of the week. They aren’t yet aware of the true reason behind your absence.”

The thought of having to tell the others churned his stomach but something else the Professor said caught his attention. “Rest of the week? But I figured I’d go back tomorrow.”

“I don’t want you there at the school while Trieg is still present. Until I can take care of Trieg, you will stay here.”

Kurt was taken aback. Not that he necessarily wanted to go back and face Trieg, but he didn’t want to sit around in his room. It would just lead to him remembering and thinking. Did the Professor think he was weak? He knew he should’ve done something before but he just couldn’t. And now it seemed he had lost the Professor’s respect. Maybe the Professor thought he was being too emotional about this. Taking it too hard.

Feeling slightly guilty, the Professor skimmed Kurt’s thoughts. Kurt wasn’t exactly forthcoming but the emotions reflected on his face caused him alarm. He was too worried that he had somehow made the situation worse. Luckily, Kurt was thinking in English as he tended to do when holding a conversation in said language. And it seemed he was right. Somehow, instead of conveying calm and sympathy, he’d projected an attitude of apathy and disappointment. He had to fix this.

“Please don’t misunderstand. What happened was horrible. I, in no way, blame you. I don’t think you’re weak. And I don’t think you’re being too emotional. This situation isn’t easily handled. I still don’t want you to return to school yet, but it’s not you that I doubt. Trieg snuck and surreptitiously drugged your water. Who knows what he might resort to next. I-”

“Don’t,” Kurt interrupted. “Don’t read my thoughts.”

The Professor sat stunned for a second. He was so concerned with saying the right thing that he hadn’t thought about how invasive he was being. Before he could respond, Kurt had teleported away.

“Well, that didn’t end well,” Logan bluntly said as he shifted back in his seat.

The Professor sighed and rubbed his eyes. “No, it did not. He’s right, though. I shouldn’t have done that. I just wanted to –”

Logan waved him off. “No need to explain, Chuck. This conversation, the whole thing. We don’t know what we’re doing and we both messed up, but at least we tried.”

“Do you think I made it worse?”

“Hard to say. Kurt’s a tough one. But for someone really good at helping others out with their problems, he sure doesn’t accept help easily.”

“If only he had come to us sooner. Watching that video…” The Professor trailed off as images from it flashed through his mind.

“It was rough,” Logan answered huskily. He looked over to the Professor’s desk. Though he had erased all evidence of it from the school’s systems, he knew the file still festered on the Professor’s computer.

Breaking his thoughts away, the Professor brought to attention another matter. “I’m also worried that it seems he feels like it’s his fault that this happened.”

Logan tore his eyes away from the computer and nodded. “Yeah. That night he apologized. Actually apologized like he had messed up. I doubt much has changed since then.”

“Knowing Kurt, he’s not going to say anything about that. Or even bring up Coach Trieg again.”

“Not likely, but we gotta make him. We gotta keep talking to him. Try and get through to him.”

“What else can we do,” the Professor said resignedly.

“You know, I’ve been thinking.” The Professor looked up in surprise, not expecting an answer to his rhetorical question. “Though it may not help with the matter at hand, but I think we should – that is all the staff – should get child abuse training.”

“That is an excellent suggestion. I was remiss to not even think about it. I just wish I’d thought of it earlier. Then perhaps we might’ve seen something.”

“Don’t know if it would’ve helped in this situation. I had no clue that anything was bothering Kurt. Hell, I didn’t even know he and Lance were hanging out.”

“It seemed none of us knew.” The Professor shook his head. He wondered if he’d been lax in working with his students. It was good that he provided a school for them to master their powers, but that wasn’t his sole purpose of starting it. He also wanted to provide a safe haven for mutants, a place where they got the support they needed that might be missing in their lives, whether because of their powers or not. Somehow that goal had gotten shunted to the side.

“You’ve been silent awhile. What’re ya thinking, Chuck?”

“Just that perhaps we need to focus on building up relationships with the students. And not just in combat situations.”

“They’re teenagers. They’re not going to be so gung-ho on opening up.”

“I know,” the Professor sighed, “as evinced by Kurt. But as also shown, it’s important that we build a solid foundation of support. Maybe if one of us had that relationship with him, he would’ve said something sooner.”

“He knows we’re here for them. They all do.”

“We can say that all we want, but I think we also need to start showing interest. Take the initiative.” The more he spoke, the more the Professor began feeling convinced that this was the best route to reform his school to the best interest of his students. “This goes for all of our students, any current and future ones. We need to let them know that we’re not just here for them, but we _want_ them to come to us.”

“I get what you’re saying, Chuck. But I dunno…”

“The least we can do is try.”

“So just start holding conversations with them?” Doubt filled Logan’s voice.”Just go up to them and say any problems lately you wanna talk about? Been sexually harassed or assaulted lately?”

“Logan,” the Professor reprimanded. “That is not what I meant.”

“Sorry, Chuck. I know. And it’s not a half bad idea, but maybe it’d be better if you left this to Ororo. I’m not so good with this stuff.”

“You’re selling yourself short. You have a pretty strong relationship with Kitty already.”

“Yeah, cause she asks for advice. While others…”

“Not all students are going to be as open. We have to put forth the effort.”

“Yeah. I’m just worried that I’ll fuck things up. What if we can’t get through to him?”

The Professor knew that at the heart of the matter, they were both worried about Kurt. They could make general plans all they wanted to, but ultimately, they already had a student that needed immediate help. He sighed, “As you said, we have to keep trying. If we can’t, then we’ll have to turn to outside help.”

“There isn’t any outside help for him.”

With Kurt, it was always a sticky situation because of his appearance. The Professor had always worried about him being gravely injured as taking him to a hospital would be out of the question. “We’ll cross that bridge if we get there. For now, I want you and me to be the ones to talk to him.”

“Alright.” There wasn’t really much else Logan could say. He had his doubts on his capability but it was more important that he did right by Kurt. “But in the meantime, what’re we going to do about Trieg?”

The Professor’s face darkened as his voice held a glacial edge. “I will handle him.”

 

QQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQ

 

Trieg’s office didn’t hint at the underlying nature of the man. Hazy morning sunlight spilled in from the raised blinds behind his desk. Several frames holding pictures of smiling teams graced the wall while gleaming trophies glinted in a small glass case. A few heavy weights rested in a corner, an attestment to the man’s dedication to fitness.

Professor Xavier took this all in while he waited for Trieg to join him. He began to study the pictures as he waited, wondering if other students seemingly so happy in the photos had also been violated by Trieg. As he eyes passed over a photo of a few students kneeling next to a soccer ball, he noticed one frame in particular that stood out. It hung slightly away from the grouping of pictures, placed conveniently closer to the desk. Sensing some sort of significance, the Professor turned to study the picture. It was of last year’s gymnastics team with Kurt kneeling in front, seemingly laughing at something off camera. Shock quickly followed by dismay filled the Professor. Just how long had this been going on? The disparity between the happy Kurt in the picture and how he was yesterday – the Professor grew furious. It was one of the few times in his life where he found himself thinking of abusing his power. But he knew any type of action other than the one he had planned could make the situation worse.

He closed his eyes and calmly breathed for a few moments, reining in his temper. The click of the door opening caused him to open his eyes. He was ready for this confrontation. He had the upper hand, and he would make sure that he’d get the result he desired.

“Sorry to keep you so long…” Trieg trailed off, obviously unaware of the Professor’s name.

“Professor Charles Xavier. Please call me Professor.” The man didn’t deserve the right to call him by his first name.

“Alright, Professor,” Trieg said as he settled in behind his desk. “What can I do for you?”

The casual way that Trieg sat down, as if nothing was wrong, as if he hadn’t done anything, incensed the Professor. The emotional chaos that Trieg had inflicted on Kurt, on them all… while Trieg just acted as if this was another humdrum day. That would soon change.

“You may not be aware, but I am Kurt’s guardian.” The Professor saw a flash of fear cross Trieg’s face before it was quickly hidden. With that, he knew. He knew that Trieg was completely aware of his actions. Completely aware that what he did was a gross violation of his position as a teacher.

“Oh. Well then.” The Professor watched Trieg stumble through his words. “Great. He’s excellent at gymnastics. A great member of the team.”

The Professor stared at him in return.

“Yes, really great. You should see him. In fact, our last tournament of the season is approaching. You should come.”

The Professor continued to remain silent. His stare pierced through Trieg, willing the man to keep trying to act as if he hadn’t molested his student.

“Of course, completely understand if you can’t make it,” Trieg said, a slight tremor of nervousness threading his voice. “But if you need any makeup work, you should go find his other teachers. They’ll have what he needs.”

If Trieg thought he could get rid of him that easily, he was sorely mistaken. By now, there could be no doubt that Trieg knew why he was there. Just before Trieg opened his mouth to fill the silence, he said, “I know what you did.”

“W-What do you –?”

“No. You _do not_ get to play dumb.” The Professor had had enough. “You sexually assaulted _my_ student, and most likely would’ve done worse if not for another student’s interference.”

“I did no such thing!” Despite Trieg’s denial, his face didn’t hold any hint of surprise at the accusation. “I would never –”

“You did. On Tuesday, you went so far as to drug Kurt. Force yourself on him.”

“What? That is a bald-faced lie!” Trieg stood up, hands slapping the desk as his chair went flying back.

“And now you’re calling him and Lance liars?” The Professor remained steadfast in the face of Trieg’s outburst.

“Are you really going to believe two teenagers over me, their teacher? They’re just making up stories. Probably to get attention from you.”

“Yes, yes I do believe them over you.” The Professor’s voice was steely and firm. He watched the result of his blunt statement. Trieg’s visage darkened. His hands clenched into tight fists, shaking in bare anger.

“You know what, fuck you. I’m the adult. The teacher. I deserve that respect.”

“You deserve nothing but my utmost disdain.”

“Is that so? What about Kurt then?”

The Professor was confused, unsure of what Trieg meant.

“He doesn’t listen. Doesn’t follow my orders. Yet you listen to him.”

“You seem under the impression that you can change my mind or turn me against Kurt.”

Trieg’s face twisted into a snarl. “He wanted it. That’s right. He’s the one that made me do it. The way he talks to me. Looks at me. I know he wants it. He let me touch him before. It wasn’t any different this time. It’s all his fault.”

The Professor saw red. He couldn’t believe the gall of Trieg blaming Kurt. “No!” His voice boomed in the room physically and psionically, causing Trieg to give a violent start. “No,” he stated again. The release of his powers helped ease his fury but not lessen it. “I will hear no more.”

“Can’t stand the truth?” Trieg crossed his arms triumphantly.

“Your twisted truth. A truth I don’t think you honestly believe. You know fully well what you did. In fact, you even took steps to ensure that Kurt couldn’t resist you.”

“I told him. I told him what he needed to do. He didn’t listen. I was just helping him get what he wanted.”

“You manipulated. Drugged, sexually harassed and assaulted him.”

Whatever Trieg was going to say in response, the Professor didn’t care. He cut him off before he even could refute the charges again.

“I will not allow you to harm Kurt again. This is my ultimatum. Resign from your job. You are to come nowhere near Kurt or any other student for that matter.”

“Resign? Or what?” Trieg scoffed. “You have no proof.”

A cloud passed over the sun, briefly casting the room in shadow. “Do I not? Not even a sampling of the water you drugged.” While there was video evidence, it wouldn’t be viable as proof due to the fact Kurt was uninducered in it.

Backed into a corner, Trieg played his last card. “I’ll go public with what a freak Kurt is.”

The Professor was done. This man would do anything to get his way, and the Professor wanted to hear nothing else he had to say. He hadn’t wanted to resort to this, but Trieg left him no choice. Entering his mind, the Professor magnified his voice to almost a painful level. _You will do no such thing. You will resign and never come near the school or Kurt again. If you try to reveal him, if you dare to touch him or even talk to him again, I will not sit idly back. I’ll reduce you to a sniveling invalid, incapable of thought beyond that of an infant ._ It wasn’t a threat the Professor was yet willing to follow through with, but Trieg didn’t need to know that detail. “Do I make myself clear?”

Trieg’s eyes were wide with disbelief. He gaped for a few seconds. “You have power too.”

“Yes, and I am not adverse to using it.”

Trieg , still dazed, stared forward as his mind wrapped around the idea of another person with some type of special attribute. How many of them were there? It took him a few seconds before he regained his composure. “I-…. I could go to the press and -”

The Professor cut him off, already anticipating his argument. “No one would believe you and now _you_ are the one with no proof.”

“B-But I need this job. I need the money and –”

“That is not my problem. You don’t belong anywhere near a school or young adults.” The Professor headed to the door, ready to take leave of the horrid man. “You are to leave by the end of tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? That’s crazy. You’re being unreasonable.”

“I am being far more reasonable than you have the right.”

Trieg slammed his palms onto his desk, breathing heavily for a second before biting out a sharp, “Fine” accompanied by an acrid glare.

_Tomorrow_ , the Professor reiterated mentally to remind Trieg of his threat. Satisfied that he got his point across and the desired outcome, the Professor let the door click behind him.

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


	9. Chapter 9

Lance shifted in his seat in the back of the classroom before sinking lower to avoid the teacher’s gaze. There was some boring class discussion going on about _The Merchant of Venice_ or some other stupid Shakespeare play he hadn’t bothered to read. He didn’t understand how some of the nerds got so involved in debating old ass plays that had been around forever. Couldn’t they just read the Sparknotes and be done? As long as he sat in the back of the class and looked like he was paying attention, he could avoid being called on and wander off into his own thoughts.

Tuning out the droning of his classmates, his mind started drifting to a recent favorite fantasy of his. One that involved the Danger Room and Kurt. He had added a bit more detail each time – the commanding way he’d step forward, the just so tilt of his head, the grasping and panting….. This time he focused on the clothes. Maybe they’d been sparing and there just so happened to be a few tantalizing slashes of clothing revealing hints of a lithe form. Next he’d reach down and grab-

Stop. He had to stop there. He never let his fantasies get too carried away. Cause it’s not like he was gay. A little make-out fantasy didn’t mean anything. He was just exploring. Everyone explored. He was just doing it in the safety of his own head. But if his daydreams went a step any further, he’d have to start listening to Cher and buy hair gel.*

Besides, sometimes if he took it too far, his imagination would twist on him and replace the Danger Room romp with last Tuesday. The locker room, Trieg pressed down on Kurt, his hands all over him, possessing. Each time Lance remembered, his mood would darken and he found it difficult to reign in his temper. He was glad that Professor Xavier had taken care of Trieg (he assumed) given the absence of that asshole. Still, if he ever came across Trieg, he’d beat him until the only thing that remained was an unidentifiable lump of blood and pain.

What worried Lance, though, was that Kurt had been back since Monday, and here it was Wednesday and Lance had yet to have any meaningful interaction with him. Anytime Lance had tried to have a conversation, Kurt would give some short response or some excuse to leave. He hadn’t even been to gymnastics practice. Was it because of Trieg? Or what if it was because of their argument before that? One thing for sure, Lance absolutely didn’t like it. He wasn’t going to let their differences in opinion affect their friendship. And he for sure wasn’t going to let some asshole coach cause Kurt to shunt him away.

He was already beginning to formulate a plan. First things first, he needed to get Kurt to just talk to him for more than a few seconds. Lunch was next period so he could make his move then. So far so good. Then what? …. Lance doodled a bit in his notebook, frustrated. He could convince Kurt to come back to gymnastics practice, and things could return to normal. At least for the last few weeks before the final tournament. But then it’d be winter break and no more gymnastics. What if gymnastics was the only thing tying them together? What if they stopped hanging out? What if he couldn’t even get him to come back to gymnastics? The dark, chaotic circles Lance had been mindlessly tracing in his notebook, endlessly looping like Lance’s thoughts, finally ripped through to the next page.

“Fuck.”

“Mr. Alvers, do you have something you wish to add to our conversation?” Ms. Oppenheim asked as she made her way down the aisle towards his desk.

“No,” Lance replied as he closed his notebook and tried to look indifferent to the fact that everyone was now turned around staring at him.

“Surely you must have an opinion on what we were discussing. Please, do share.”

Lance glared at Ms. Oppenheim’s shrewd smile. She knew that he wasn’t paying attention and had him cornered.

“Well…” Lance hemmed and hawed, rattling his brain to repeat something intelligent he’d read in the Sparknotes.

“We’re all dying to know what remarkable insight you have hidden to yourself,” Ms. Oppenheim openly mocked.

Just then the bell rang.

“Saved by the bell, Mr. Alvers. We’ll continue this discussion tomorrow. For the next class, please read pages…”

Lance didn’t hear the rest of the instructions, already making a beeline for the cafeteria, wanting to grab Kurt before he somehow slipped by him again.

After a few eternal minutes of scanning the hallways, he finally spotted him making his way. He was talking animatedly to some people Lance only knew in passing, laughing at some joke one of them had made. Lance felt a flash of jealously pass over him, and before he knew it, he had stormed over to the small group.

“I need to talk to you.” Lance grabbed Kurt’s arm, not letting him get a word in as he started dragging him away.

“Lance, what’re you –” Kurt tried to protest as he stumbled after Lance.

Lance cut Kurt off. “No, we’re going to talk right now. No excuses this time. We’re going to – ”

This time it was Lance who was forced to stop in the middle of the hallway as Kurt wrenched his arm free from his grasp.

Lance turned around ready to give Kurt a telling to for trying to avoid him _again_ , but he recoiled at the irritation blatantly directed at him.

“You can’t just pull me around like some piece of luggage.” Kurt crossed his arms over his chest.

“I wasn’t. I-” Lance faltered in the face of Kurt’s anger. He hadn’t meant to upset him. It had just been so long since they’d talk and then to see him merrily conversing with other students. He didn’t know what came over him. “I just wanted to talk with you.”

The rush for the cafeteria was dying down, leaving them with only a handful of students to skirt around their awkward conversation.

Kurt sighed. He couldn’t be angry at Lance for long, not with his earnest and apologetic expression. “Alright, but I just need to go get lunch first.”

“Yeah, me too.” Lance, still chagrined at his behavior, quietly agreed. “Just meet me underneath the tree in front of the science lab.”

“We could just go together in the line, you know.”

“Yeah, but um…” Lance felt guilty saying it but he still couldn’t handle if any of the Brotherhood saw them together. He didn’t want to face that just yet.

“Right,” Kurt sighed but didn’t say anything else as he headed off to the cafeteria.

Lance stood there for a few minutes before he followed. He just hoped their conversation during lunch wasn’t as painful and uncomfortable as this one was.

 

  

Luckily, the area under the tree was unoccupied when Lance finally got through the line. It was a reclusive spot, on the far side of the front lawn, away from the bustle of the rest of the students hanging out on picnic benches. Lance couldn’t wait until next year when he could leave campus for lunch as a senior. The cafeteria food just plain sucked.

For December, the weather was relatively mild except when the wind blew a chilly blast that pierced straight through any layer of clothing. Settling down, Lance impatiently waited for Kurt. He figured Kurt would’ve gotten here first considering he went through the line first. It made Lance nervous. What if Kurt just didn’t show up?

Before Lance could worry himself into a frenzy, Kurt exited the front doors, tray in hand, and made his way over to the tree.

“Hey, what took you so long?”

“I had to stop and explicitly explain to the Brotherhood that I was definitely not eating with you and that they should be sure to stay inside for lunch and not come near this tree,” Kurt said matter-of-factly as he sat down next to Lance.

Lance stared dumbfounded a second before his mind caught up with Kurt’s words. “Hey!”

“Don’t worry. I made sure they didn’t see me come over here, ok?”

“Yeah… thanks.” There was a pause as Lance tore off a bite of chicken nugget. He didn’t know how to begin so he just stated what was on his mind. “You know, I missed hanging – you at gymnastics practice.” Lance changed up what he was going to say, not wanting to be some sap that can’t get by without seeing Kurt for a week.

Kurt looked at him a little funny but just shrugged in response. “I didn’t really feel like going back.”

“We need you, though.” Lance decided for now he would try to avoid bringing up Trieg. First step was to get Kurt back to the gymnastics team, not alienate him immediately with talking about the bastard. “The final tournament is just in two weeks. Without you, we’re gonna look like ass.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “You all will be fine. Mark will own rings and Jose’s gotten even better at the horse. And you’ve gotten really great too.”

Lance slightly swelled with pride from the praise. “Come on, you know you’re the best we got.”

“The season’s almost over. You don’t-”

Lance interrupted whatever excuse Kurt was about to invent. “Exactly, the season _is_ almost over, so it’d just be two more weeks.”

“I dunno.” Kurt looked down, his gaze focused on mechanically dabbing a chicken nugget in ketchup, avoiding Lance’s eyes.

Lance suspected that Kurt was perhaps thinking about Trieg. He wanted to reach out and comfort him, but instead tried to divert his thoughts. “It’s just not the same without you. Mark needs you, and…” Lance felt hesitant to finish his sentence, afraid it might divulge more than he wished to but Kurt didn’t seem to be easily convinced. He needed to say this. “…and I need you there too.”

“Why?” Kurt finally looked up at him, curious at the unusual vulnerability Lance was displaying.

“Cause, you know.” Lance shrugged.

Kurt put a hand up to his head and concentrated hard at Lance. “Nope, still not telepathic. Sorry. Looks like you’ll have to tell me.”

Lance smiled, tension slightly released at Kurt’s humor. “Well,” Lance began nervously. He wasn’t so good at saying his emotions out loud. It was just a little embarrassing. “Cause at practice, we’re friends and all. Then when it’s not gymnastics practice, I don’t get to see you… or Mark,” he hastily added.

“We hang out on the weekends, though.” Kurt added as he popped a nugget into his mouth.

“Yeah, for now. What if when it’s all over, we don’t have anything to talk about. And then we won’t get to talk until after the winter break, and we won’t get to see each other for so long.”

“Wait. Why? What’s happening during the break?”

“Aren’t you going home to Germany?”

Kurt shook his head. “Not until summer. So we’ll have plenty of time to talk about what horror movie we can gross Mark out with next.”

“Oh.” Lance couldn’t help but smile a little. It was good to know that despite any arguments they had, Kurt still wanted to be friends. Though, what if he’d forgotten in the face of what else had happened.

“Don’t be an idiot. Of course we’ll all still be friends after gymnastics. Mark made sure of that.”

Lance dreaded bringing this up but it had to be faced. “What about our fight? In the locker room.” He looked furtively around before whispering, “About the Brotherhood and X-men.”

“Oh. I….” Kurt hunched down over his lunch, swirling a nugget in some ketchup but not eating it. “I dunno.”

“Can’t you at least respect my opinion? I’m Brotherhood. I’m not going to change.”

“Yeah, but how can you say that everyone who’s not a mutant isn’t good enough? Isn’t worth protecting?” Kurt gestured at all the other students milling about, laughing at something their friends said, or simply enjoying the weather.

Lance didn’t even bother looking. “Cause they aren’t.”

“But –”

“Trieg.” Lance felt slightly guilty at bringing him up but his name just kinda slipped out. But the cat was out of the bag. Might as well go with it. “He certainly isn’t good enough.”

Kurt cringed at the name, but wasn’t about to be shut down. “He’s just one person. Not some representative of all non-mutants.”

Lance knew this wasn’t going to get them anywhere. Neither one of them was going to budge on the topic. “I didn’t want this to be some endless debate,” he sighed. “We’ve been doing pretty good so far without arguing about it, right? At least until this last week. How come we can’t continue that?”

“Just ignore it?”

“Yeah.”

“And when there’s the next battle? What then? What if we start fighting each other more often?”

“Well, the last battle didn’t go too badly, right? I mean, I didn’t attack you and you didn’t attack me. That seemed to work.” Kurt just stared back exasperated, but Lance hurriedly continued on before he could interject. “And next time, I’ll be more careful of bystanders, ok?” It wasn’t that he was overly concerned for any idiot who got in the way of their fight. But if Kurt was and if it could help sort out their problem, then he could make that sacrifice.

Kurt sighed in resignation. “I guess. It wouldn’t be any different from Democrats and Republicans. They can be friends, right?”

Lance gave Kurt a sideways, bizarre look.

“I just had History,” Kurt said in defense.

Feeling the tone of the conversation lighten, Lance went along with it. “Couldn’t you at least use a cooler example?”

“Like the Jets and the Sharks?”

Lance groaned. “I said cooler, not lamer.”

“They’re rivals, like us.”

“They dance and sing. I will never be caught dancing _or_ singing.”

Kurt grinned. “That would be pretty great. Seeing Magneto bust out with ‘I’m so Pretty.’”

“Ugh, no. I don’t even want to imagine.”

“Fine. Hm. How about The Trekkies and the Star Wars… Warsies? Warziens? Fans? Are they called something special?”

“Just no. I’m about to get up and leave.”

“Ok. How about the X-boxers vs. the Playstioners?”

“I’m going to squirt this ketchup package all over you if you don’t stop.”

“The Gut Bombians versus the -”

Lance tired to stay gruff but couldn’t hold back a chortle. “Now you’re just making stuff up.”

“Us, Gut Bombians take our greasy hamburgers very seriously.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. But in all seriousness, we’re agreed then? No bringing up any Brotherhood and X-men arguments.”

“Alright,” Kurt agreed a bit skeptically but if Lance was willing then he could at least try too.*

“You know,” Lance started to say before pausing. The topic of Trieg had been rattling around his brain the whole time, like a buzzing fly swarming around his head. He had been apprehensive about bringing him up, but Kurt seemed to be in high spirits and didn’t seem too affected by his earlier slipup. Maybe now was the time to broach the subject. Not having really gotten to speak with Kurt except through terse text messages since that dreadful night, Lance needed to know how he was really doing. Not knowing of any elegant way to broach the subject, Lance just dove right in, “About Trieg. How’re you handling it?”

Lance could see Kurt fold into himself, like shutters slamming down while he folded into himself.

“I just don’t want to talk about it.”

They sat there awkwardly for a second before Kurt got up.

“I’m gonna go throw this away.” Kurt gestured to the tray in his hand. “Want me to get yours?”

“Um, sure.” Lance handed Kurt his empty lunch tray and watched as Kurt headed over to the garbage can. How was he so good at fucking up their conversations? Kurt seemed fairly steady if not reluctant to talk about Trieg. Lance couldn’t swoop in and be a shoulder to cry on or whatever other cliché. But he also didn’t want to press the topic. They had finally been having a good, relaxing time. He didn’t want it to stop.

When Kurt returned, Lance asked, “So, did you hear _Treepocalypse_ totally bombed at the box office?” It was a non sequitur, but he didn’t know what else to say.

Kurt visibly relaxed. “ _Ja_? Deserved it.”

“You didn’t have to stay and watch the rest of it. Man, it just got worse,” Lance said as he leaned back against the tree. Satisfied that his ploy worked, Lance enjoyed the rest of the lunch period with them bemoaning the utter stupidity of _Treepocalypse_.

 

 

 

His hands clutched in his hair with frustration, Kurt read, then reread, then _re_ reread the same incomprehensible dialogue. He stared at the words as if they’d somehow magically rearrange to make sense. Maybe he could find the book translated into German. Sure the play had been assigned for English, but it’s not like that’d really be cheating, right?

He carelessly tossed the play onto his desk and leaned back in his chair to stare at the ceiling, as if it held the answer. _The Merchant of Venice_ teetered on the edge before, perhaps in retribution, electing to plummet to the floor. Kurt fumbled to catch the book, but instead ended up tipping too far back in his chair. This time he clutched his head in physical pain while shooting a venomous glare towards the play that had landed just beside his head.

“Having a little trouble?” came an amused voice from his doorway.

“ _Ja_ ,” Kurt grumbled while picking himself and the book off the floor. He righted his chair before vehemently chucking the play back onto his desk. “Why couldn’t it just be written in English English?”

Logan stifled a small smile at Kurt’s evaluation of Shakespearean writing. “Come on and take a break. There’s hot cocoa waiting downstairs.”

Kurt sighed before nodding in acquiescence. It probably wasn’t a bad idea. Just, he was still adjusting to Logan’s sudden interest in his day-to-day life. It had been incredibly strange and awkward the first time Logan had knocked on his door and started asking about his day. But, at least he knew he wasn’t the only one suffering from the teachers’ focused attention. In fact, all the teachers had suddenly involved themselves in talking to the students. Rogue had remarked to him how Ororo had taken her and Jean out for an unexpected-but-actually-not-so-terrible manicure/girl talk after school earlier this week. Kurt thought Rogue’s new black nails streaked with red suited her.

He assumed the bizarre conversations had started due to what had happened to him. At least, so far all the times Logan had talked to him he hadn’t brought it up. Overall, though, it was strange but not as terrible as he thought it could be.

With one last glare at the battered copy of the play, Kurt followed Logan downstairs to the kitchen. Through the large, open windows, Kurt caught glimpses of heavy snowfall against the pitch of night. He hadn’t realized how long he’d actually been spectacularly failing at deciphering Shakespeare.

In the kitchen, he rummaged around the pantry for marshmallows while Logan heated up the milk. No one else was around, so the house was oddly quiet. Kurt stood in the pantry, nervously clutching a bag of marshmallows. The times Logan had popped in this week had revolved around how he was doing at school, having missed several days last week or other mundane topics. What if it was this time that Logan brought up Trieg? Kurt had successfully avoided discussing him with anyone so far since the talk with the Professor. And he was fine with it remaining that way. His brain betrayed him enough, conjuring up images of last Tuesday – Trieg’s lustful gaze, his hands, touching, his –

Kurt closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath, purging the images from his mind. Knowing if he staying any longer in the pantry, Logan might start thinking he’d been attacked by the expired jar of pickled pigs feet that no one dared touch, Kurt reluctantly reached for the door.

Luckily, either Logan hadn’t noticed or didn’t feel like he needed to bring up his delay. Logan was just removing the milk from the microwave. Kurt placed the marshmallows on the granite countertop of the island and climbed up onto one of the barstools. He watched, mystified as Logan took heaping spoonfuls of cocoa mix and dropped them into the bottom of two blue, ceramic mugs. It was just so strange seeing Logan do something so mundane and strangely motherly.

When Logan turned around with them in hand, he noticed Kurt’s expression. “What?”

“Nothing. Just pretty sure I’m in an episode of the _Twilight Zone_.”

With a soft clack, Logan placed the steaming cups next to the marshmallows and joined Kurt on a barstool. “I like hot chocolate,” Logan stated so candidly that Kurt just shrugged and plopped three giant, fluffy marshmallows in each cup.

“So-”

“It’s just weird-”

“What’s weird?” Logan asked, dropping whatever he was about to say.

Kurt made a vague encompassing gesture. “The way you’ve been all, I dunno, parental? Asking about my day and school and stuff.”

Logan grunted a noncommittal reply and took a sip of hot cocoa.

Kurt clutched at his mug, letting the warmth from the cup seep into his hands. “Is it because of… you know.”

Logan stared at him a second, as if judging his response before confessing the truth. “In part. It made us realize how we had messed up – not talking to you or the others enough outside of the Danger Room or X-men problems.”

Kurt felt guilty. “I…” He glanced away from Logan. He hadn’t wanted to discuss Trieg, but he didn’t want them to shoulder his burden. He was the one at fault, not the others. “I probably wouldn’t have said anything anyway.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Just the Prof and the rest of us have decided this is for the best. We’re here for you.” Logan immediately took a long drink from his mug, not daring to risk any more schmaltz.

Kurt took his cue and shifted the topic a bit. “So I guess that’s why the Professor’s been bugging me.”

“Yeah. He said you weren’t really receptive. Still angry about him reading your thoughts last week?”

Kurt shrugged, but a quick lashing of his tail betrayed his thoughts.

“He screwed up, that’s for sure. But he was just trying to help you. Think about forgiving him.”

Kurt thought that the Professor should apologize first to him; instead, he just replied, “Alright.”

“About last week….”

Kurt braced himself. He had hoped that that topic had been exhausted for now, but no such luck. In fact, he’d done a great job of not thinking about it at all. Trieg was gone. It was over with. No need to talk about it anymore. And, if he ever thought of Trieg, he just distracted himself. There was school and training at the mansion or Lance or Mark to talk to. And homework.

The hardest was when he was trying to go to sleep. Then everything he had suppressed throughout the day crystallized into a poisonous cloud.

“You should really think about telling the others.”

Kurt looked down at his hot chocolate. He hadn’t had a chance to take a sip yet, and now the marshmallows were mostly melted, sticking out like small icebergs in a pool of chocolate. Quietly, he asked, “Why… why would they need to know?”

He felt more than saw Logan shift his body to face his. “I used to ask myself that same question. And sometimes I still do. It’s not easy to share things that’re painful.”

Hearing the wistful tone in his voice, Kurt looked over at Logan. His eyes stared out the kitchen window, as if lost in his own anguish. Kurt wondered what it was that Logan kept hidden from them. If he had shared his pain with anyone. But that thought was quickly hushed when Logan turned back to Kurt. His gaze was intense. “But friends are there to support you.”

Kurt couldn’t maintain eye contact and looked anywhere but at Logan. He really didn’t want them to know. Didn’t want to relive the experience. Didn’t want to see their reactions. Just the thought of it made the shame course through his body like a searing dagger.

“Think on it. But I didn’t want to talk to you just about that. How’s it been back at school? Catch up on all your work?”

While glad for the shift in conversation, Kurt thought it was very strange. In fact, before this week, he never had this conversation before really. He’d had long rambling ones with his parents when he first started school but he’d never had this ‘how was your school day’ conversation. “ _Ja_ , everything’s good.”

Logan cracked a smile. Typical response from a teenager. “What about gymnastics? You’d said Lance had convinced you to finish up the season.”

Kurt took a drink from his hot chocolate. Now that they were talking about easier topics, the drink seemed appealing again. “ _Ja_ , there’s a tournament in about a week. Right before winter break.”

“I’ll be there.”

Kurt was surprised if not a bit skeptical. Never had any of the teachers shown up at any of his tournaments. He wouldn’t hold his breath.

“If you need any pointers, I can help you out. I may not be the most acrobatic, but I got a good eye.”

“ _Ja_ , maybe. The new coach typically just works with the basket and baseball teams. He’s just filling in so we have a teacher there when we practice.”

“I’m sure we can set up some gymnastic system in the Danger Room. Even get Lance over here to practice too.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

“I’d never guess it’d happen, but Lance, he’s changed. How’d you do it?”

“It wasn’t me. Lance decided he wanted to change and so he did.”

“Hn,” Logan answered. “Good for him.” Though, Logan didn’t doubt what Kurt said, he also knew that that type of change didn’t happen without help. “Any chance of him joining back up with the X-men?”

Kurt shook his head. “No. We’ve fought over it. I just can’t see why he believes the Brotherhood is right. How can anyone think of other people as inferior?”

“Sad to say, it seems like the status quo nowadays. If only more people thought like you.” Logan wasn’t usually so maudlin but he thought Kurt could use a bit of a boost.

Kurt slightly smiled at the praise and took a sip of cocoa. He was glad that his blushing was well hidden by his fur.

“So did you and Lance come to any resolution?”

“Just that we wouldn’t discuss it, and in a fight, we’d just avoid each other.”

“And if the fight turned pivotal around you two?”

Kurt shrugged before finishing off his hot chocolate. “I know it’s not a perfect solution, but what else is there? I don’t want to just say we can’t be friends.”

“Seems like you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. That means when you-”

Kurt waved off Logan’s explanation of the idiom. “I know that one.”

“Right. It’s a tough situation. Just know that when the moment comes – and that moment will come - you’re going to have to make a call on what to do.”

There was that look again in Logan’s eyes. While Kurt didn’t dare ask Logan what caused his anguish for fear that it would just lead the conversation back to Trieg, he couldn’t help but wonder about it.

“But you know,” Logan continued as he gathered up his and Kurt’s empty mugs, “I know you’ll do what’s best. You got a good heart.”

“I hope so.” Kurt started to gather up the marshmallows and hot chocolate powder.

“Don’t worry about that. I got it. You should go continue working on your Shakespeare. I’d help you out but I don’t get much of what he wrote.”

“Thanks for the hot chocolate.” Kurt hoped that Logan realized that his thanks extended to more than the sweet drink.

Logan nodded. “Anytime.”

 

 

Mark stole a glance over to where Kurt and Lance were sitting cozily on his couch. Their eyes were glued to the screen as their fingers deftly scampered across the controllers in their hands.

“Fucking Christ, come on!” Lance growled, causing Mark to focus back on the game. On the screen, Princess Peach wielded a heavy hammer and was closing in on a desperate Bowser. Jumping too late, Bowser became a mere twinkle in the sky as he was smashed out of the arena.

“That is such a bullshit item.”

“All’s fair in war and video games,” Kurt countered back with a slight smirk.

“It is _so_ on.”

Mark watched as Kurt and Lance went right back at it in the game, basically ignoring his character - a sharp reflection to what had been happening all week. During lunch, he’d scarcely seen hide or tail of Kurt or Lance; and during gymnastics practice, they’d seem insulated in their own bubble. It was part of the reason why he’d asked them to come over to his place. He didn’t want them to continue excluding him, but obviously it hadn’t worked.

He put his controller down next to the bowl of popcorn and gummy bears on the coffee table. He rested his elbows on his knees and watched as his character stood forlornly in the center of the arena. Neither Lance nor Kurt seemed to notice.

Grabbing his empty can of Coke, he crushed it, releasing some of his pent up frustration. Throwing it next to his abandoned remote, he debated what to do next. Normally, he’d just tell it straight, but this was different. True, he thought Lance and Kurt were accepting of his brusque manner, but they weren’t just anybody now. They were friends.

Getting up from his chair, Mark waffled for a second before heading towards the door. “Hey, I’m gonna go grab another Coke. Anyone want anything?”

“I’m good,” came Kurt’s distracted reply. Lance didn’t bother saying anything.

Annoyed and a bit pissed, Mark changed his mind. This was stupid letting it fester. His parents did always say to be honest with his feelings, and if they weren’t accepting then screw them. With that thought, he resolutely walked over to the TV and stood right in front of it.

“Hey, Mark –”

“What the hell! Move out of the way!”

Mark ignored the protests and blurted out exactly what he’d been thinking. “I don’t like you two ignoring me.”

Kurt gaped at him but Lance immediately denied wrongdoing.

“What the hell are you talking about? We’re here with you right now. In your house! Now get out of the way.”

“Yeah, now you’re in my house, ignoring me and playing with just each other.”

Lance tramped down on any dirty images that inspired. Before he or Kurt could respond, Mark continued.

“All week, you two’ve been hanging out, having lunch, barely exchanging words with me.”

“Not all week. Just since Wednesday,” Lance grumbled, which earned him a sharp elbow from Kurt.

Either not listening to or ignoring Lance, Mark continued on, “Forgetting that, oh yeah, it was me that helped you guys become friends. Now I’m just- ”

“-chopped liver,” Kurt finished.

Mark stared at him an uncomfortable second.

Looking a little sheepish at his interjection, he apologized. “Sorry, just kind of came out.”

“If I’m chopped liver, then you two are like mac and cheese. And now I’m continuing on your stupid food metaphor. But you get my point. Tell me what’s going on then. It’s either something with me or with you guys. Either way, tell me.”

“Don’t get your panties in such a twist,” Lance said as he rolled his eyes. “There is nothing going on.”

Temper rising at the brush off, Mark countered, “Yeah? So nothing is why you two’ve been all buddy-buddy? Are you two dating?”

Kurt blushed to the tips of his ears while Lance sprang to his feet.

“What! No! Of course not! That’s fucking ridiculous!” Lance yelled, covering his embarrassment with anger.

Mark stepped back, not expecting such a strong reaction from Lance. Not wanting to turn their confrontation physical, he took a deep breath, giving himself and Lance a second to simmer down. Lance sank back down on the couch, and Mark took up his cue and settled down into his recliner. “Ok, fine. Then what is it?”

There was a long pause where Kurt kept his head down and fidgeted with his controller while Lance surreptitiously threw solemn looks his way. Mark was at a loss at how to interpret the situation.

Finally, Kurt broke the silence. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” Lance said so firmly and resolutely, Mark felt like he had missed something here.

“No, it is. I’ve been avoiding you.” Kurt looked at Mark before staring down again at his hands. “Well not just you but most people….”

When Kurt didn’t finish, Mark slightly prodded, “Any reason why?”

Kurt took a shaky breath. He knew it was on him. It was the same reason he’d avoided Lance at the beginning of the week. He was worried that somehow everyone would be able to tell what he’d let Trieg do.

But Lance hadn’t treated him any different, and he knew everything. Most everything. Lance’s support was nice. Maybe Logan was right -he should open up to his friends. He felt guilty enough causing this rift with Mark. He didn’t have to tell him everything. A partial truth. That’d be good enough.

“It’s up to you,” Lance directed to Kurt.

Kurt looked down and silence settled over them. Mark suddenly felt guilty. Obviously, whatever it was, was difficult for Kurt to speak about.

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me, okay? Just, you know, don’t ignore me.”

“No,” Kurt said. “I think. I think I want to tell you.” With Lance there and Logan’s reassurances, Kurt felt he could handle it. At least for what he was willing to tell. Besides, it could be like a dry run before he told Scott and the others.

Gathering up his courage, Kurt began. “It’s about Trieg.”

Mark immediately wanted to interject with questions but his parents had advised before that sometimes the best approach was to listen first.

“Last Tuesday, he….” Kurt paused a second.

“Look. You don’t have to tell me any details, ok? I understand.”

“No, it’s okay. Nothing much happened anyway. Trieg drugged my water but luckily Lance came in and saw before Trieg did anything.”

Shock coursed through Mark, causing him to miss Lance’s side eye to Kurt.

“I know it wasn’t anything too terrible, but it just kind of freaked me out,” Kurt rushed out, trying to smooth over the severity of the incident.

“Are you kidding? Drugged? Like drug drugged? So you were unconscious or something?”

“Sort of.” Kurt twisted the cord tight around his fingers while taking a shaky breath. “I-I couldn’t move well and the room was all spinny.”

“That’s awful. What the hell is wrong with that dickbag? Fucking Christ. Who does that? And to a student? You’re what, like, half his age.” Mark felt like punching something. Preferably Trieg, but instead he settled on kicking the coffee table, causing the drinks to precariously teeter but luckily not spill. “Shit. I knew I didn’t like him. I should’ve punched him when I had the chance. If he was still at school, he’d be one sorry son of a bitch.” Putting two-in-two together in the midst of his tirade, Mark whirled back to Kurt. “Is this why he got the ax?” Kurt’s nod barely registered in Mark’s mind as he continued on. “I just can’t believe it. What was he gonna do? No, I don’t want to know. It must’ve been terrible. Shit, you know, I didn’t ask, how are _you_ doing?”

Seeing the surprised looks on Kurt’s and Lance’s faces, Mark put a cap on his anger. “Sorry. Just pissed off.”

“The Professor, the one who runs the boarding house I’m at, he found out and took care of Trieg.”

“Good riddance. But you didn’t answer my question. How’re you holding up?”

Kurt shrugged. “I’m okay. Glad he’s gone.”

“I guess that’s why you missed most of last week?”

Kurt nodded in response.

Mark desperately wanted to press on with his questions, but saw that Kurt was looking a little pale. He obviously wasn’t ready to open up about it. Dropping the subject, he came over and sat on the couch next to him. “I’m sorry about what happened and I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass.”

“No, it’s okay. You didn’t know. And I’m sorry we ignored you and all.”

“Yeah,” Lance agreed, figuring it was what he was supposed to say.

“Let’s just… move on, _ja?_ ” Kurt gestured towards the TV and at the characters waiting impatiently to beat the crap out of each other.

Though Mark was still adjusting to the news, he figured that Kurt and Lance had probably gone through this enough. Nodding, Mark picked up his controller.

“Hey, where’s my controller?” Lance asked as he stood up to search underneath him.

Kurt and Mark both shrugged in unison before exchanging a sly look.

“For being such an honorable friend, I’ll let you have this kill,” Kurt said as he maneuvered Peach to the other side of the screen.

“And I’ll gladly take it.”

“What? No! Stop! This isn’t fair!” Lance was throwing the pillows of the couch, trying to shove Kurt aside to look under where he was sitting.

“So long, Bowser.”

“ _Auf Wiedersehen_!”

“Come on!” By now, Lance was crawling on all fours, looking under the couch. “You guys are going to regret when I find – aha! There.” Flattening himself out, Lance stretched out and nabbed the controller. “Now there will be blood!”

“I _drink_ your milkshake!”*

“Oh, look. There goes Bowser again. Like a diamond in the sky,” Kurt sing-songed.

Lance bit out a growl before settling down for payback.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Aren’t they the optimists? This whole Brotherhood and X-men thing is a pretty big issue, especially as an impediment to a deeper relationship. But we’ll see how it goes. I’m sure I’ll resolve it… somehow…yes….   
> *Just pretend that Lance had a wireless Gamecube remote or something.   
> * A reference to “I drink your milkshake!” from the movie There Will Be Blood. Great movie. Great scene.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


	10. Chapter 10

This was the type of drive that Logan loved best. The hush of the streets amplified the gentle rumble of the car and the dulcet thrushing sound as the tires displaced the snow. The snow decorating the grass and trees was still a radiant white, not long enough on the ground to become discolored to a slushy grey. The only thing that would’ve made his drive more pleasurable was being on his motorcycle, but it just wasn’t conducive for things like groceries or cold weather.

His shopping foray had been necessary – his beer supply had been dangerously low- and it was satisfying to know his cache was ensconced safely in the trunk.

As he pulled up to the mansion, a freshly cleared driveway greeted him with an easy path to the garage. It was a perfect way to end his trip, and he couldn’t help but let out a sigh of contentment as he pulled the coupe into the garage.

Popping the trunk, he made his way around the back. If anyone else was there, they may have commented on the slight jig in his step. As he lifted his sacks of groceries out of the trunk, he spied several reusable shopping bags lying underneath.

“Well, damn.” Nothing he could do now. A setback but not enough to ruin his mood.

Shifting the weight of the grocery bags in his arms, Logan made his way to the kitchen to deposit his goods.

Ororo was already there, brewing herself a pot of tea while a savory smell wafted from the oven.

“You’re in a good mood,” she commented as Logan dropped the groceries on the counter.

“That your work out there?” Logan asked, referring to the cleared path he had to the garage.

“Figured you might want an easier time getting back in than you did out. How was shopping?” Ororo inquired as she added some tea leaves to a cloud-shaped diffuser.

“Good. Got a few personal supplies.”

Ororo eyed the plastic bags. “You know we have reusable bags in the back-”

“I know,” Logan grumbled.

The tea kettle’s whistle pierced through any further reprimands from Ororo.

“Would you like some tea?” Ororo asked as she took the kettle off the stove and retrieved a delicate tea cup from the cabinet. “It’s Egyptian Chamomile.”

In response, Logan pulled out a six pack of Brooklyn Winter Ale.

“So I see.”

Logan smirked.

“I thought you were homebrewing,” Ororo said as she bent down and pulled open the oven. Satisfied by what she saw, she pulled out a tray of golden-brown kolaches.

The smell of the savory bread filled the kitchen. Logan pulled out various items from his bags– pretzels, jerky, cigars – while also following with a keen eye as Ororo moved the kolaches over to a plate. “Not done fermenting yet.” As he put away his groceries in his hidden spot high in the cabinets, he took a deep breath. “Those have bacon in them?”

“As well as egg and cheese.”

“Trade you?” Logan raised a beer while eyeing one of the piping hot kolaches. “Unless you want to stick with your tea.”

“Egyptian Chamomile is very relaxing and calming. I’d recommend at least two dozen cups to you.”

“So that’s a no to the beer then.”

“I didn’t say that,” Ororo said as she reached for the offered bottle before Logan had a chance to put it up with the rest.

“Thought so.” Logan smirked.

“I’ll have my tea later.” Ororo put her tea diffuser aside. “You’re always welcome to a cup.”

Logan just nodded as he watched Ororo carefully serve two kolaches on plates and brought them over to the breakfast nook.

They sat in companionable silence as the kolaches cooled, sipping on their beer while looking out the bay window. The grounds were an undisturbed blanket of white, creating a picturesque view that Thomas Kinkade would covet to capture.  

It was Logan who uncharacteristically broke the silence. “You know, it’s not so bad, talking with the students.”

“Did you think it would be?”

Logan shrugged. “Not sure what I expected. It’s made me feel almost –”

“Fatherly?”

Logan just grunted at that and took a pull of his beer.

Ororo hid a smile with a sip of her own.

“I think it’s somehow managed us to be even closer. We’re not just a team. We’re beginning to be more of a family.”

“Chuck knew what he was on about. Heck, I even got something for Kurt while out.”

Ororo raised a questioning brow while Logan retrieved the lone bag left on the counter. Barnes and Nobles was blazoned across its side.

Logan dug out a book and handed it to Ororo.

She read, “’ _No Fear Shakespeare – The Merchant of Venice_ : The play plus a translation anyone can understand.’” Ororo looked up from the book, disproval written across her face. “Wouldn’t this be cheating?”

“He’s still reading it. Shakespeare’s original words are still in there. He’ll just understand what he’s reading.”

Ororo grunted a small dissatisfied sound but wordlessly slid the book back to Logan.

“Speaking of, how’s he been doing?”

Logan took a second to gather his thoughts. Over the last week, Kurt had seemed to be mostly back to his normal self. He was studying, hanging out with friends and even resumed gymnastics. He had seemingly forgiven the Professor, allowing Chuck to help him with his Trigonometry homework.

Yet, whenever Logan mentioned anything in regards to Trieg or the assault, Kurt just shut down, refusing to talk about it. Logan had stopped trying to bring him up. He figured he first needed to build a foundation of trust – really establish their relationship. And then maybe Kurt would feel comfortable and ready to discuss what happened.

“He’s coping,” was all Logan responded to Ororo’s question. “Actually, I’m gonna go give this to him now so he doesn’t have to suffer any more. I’ll be right back.” Logan picked up the book and headed out. Right when he reached the door, he turned around. “Don’t touch my beer.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

After a couple of knocks with no response, Logan slowly creaked the door open, taking a peek inside.

The curtains over the French doors were drawn back, offering a scene of several black-capped chickadees fluttering about the oak tree – knocking off piles of snow as they frolicked amongst the branches. The occupant of the bed was completely unaware of the charming antics occurring right outside his doors.

One arm was thrown dramatically across his face, perhaps shielding him from the crucible that was _The Merchant of Venice_. Said play was splayed out over his chest, as if it had the power to induce unconsciousness.

Obviously Shakespeare was not as riveting as some have claimed. With a slight toss, the copy of _No Fear Shakespeare_ landed with a soft thud onto Kurt, startling him into wakefulness.

Logan chuckled at Kurt’s bedraggled appearance as he shot up in bed. “ _Was?_ ” came the muzzy question.

Logan’s laughter died down as soon as he noticed the trace of tear tracks marring Kurt’s face. Kurt must’ve realized the reason for Logan’s abrupt silence as he hastily scrubbed his arm across his face to try and erase any evidence.

“You want to talk about it?”

“No,” Kurt replied immediately, brooking no discussion. “What’s this?” He asked while picking up the book Logan had tossed.

Logan let Kurt drop it. “For you. Shakespeare on one side, English English on the other.”

Kurt laughed at Logan’s joke and began to flip through the book. “You’re a life saver. I have my final next week and I was sure I was going to fail.”

“Well, now you won’t.”

“Thanks.”

Seeing Kurt already pouring over the play, Logan figured he was done with his simple act and would rejoin Ororo and his beer. Before he could execute that thought, Kurt stopped him.

“I-I wanted to get your opinion on something.”

Logan was a bit surprised. So far, he was the one who had initiated any conversations. He considered this progress. He walked back into the room and leaned against the door jam. “Go ahead, shoot.”

“I was thinking about what you said last week – having Lance over to practice.”

Logan was confused for a second before remembering he briefly suggested as such. “Yeah?”

“Well… not just to practice. See, he’s kind of worried that our friendship isn’t going to last. Like it’s just some fleeting thing. I wanted to have him over to show him that we’re really friends. And I thought, hey if I invite him here, then maybe it’ll prove that I want to be friends cause you know, and then it’d also be like saying, you’re Brotherhood but that’s okay. What do you think?”

Amazingly, Logan was able to follow Kurt’s logic. Thinking back to that night. How Lance had carried Kurt back to the mansion. How worried he was about Kurt. Before, Logan would’ve never thought Lance had it in him to spare a thought to others.

“I think you should invite him. You’re a good influence on him. Heck, you might even convince him to give up the Brotherhood.”

“That’s what the Professor said.”

“You already asked him?”

“Yeah, just to make sure it was okay, but I wanted to see what you think too.”

A warmth spread through Logan’s chest at that declaration. Kurt must’ve warmed up enough to him to quest out his opinion. He was sure these talks would be difficult and painful, but it was actually pretty nice to really establish a relationship with the students outside of fighting. Besides, it’s not like he was getting any older. Perhaps, in a few years, they’d be old enough to forge real friendships together and not just teacher-student.

“But I’m not friends with him to make him become an X-men. It’d be nice and all, but I really do like him.”

Logan smiled at Kurt’s earnestness. “I know. It’s just something the Professor and I wouldn’t mind seeing.”

“Do you think any of the others will have a problem with him here? Like Kitty?”

“Maybe. She still doesn’t know that you and Lance are friends?”

Kurt sheepishly grinned. “Um, not exactly.”

Logan wasn’t surprised. It was typical of Kurt to avoid confrontation until things came to a head. “Just tell her before Lance comes over.”

“ _Ja_. Ok.”

“Alright, I’ll let you get –”

“One other thing….”

Now this did surprise Logan. “You’re just full of questions.”

“Well. It’s been bothering me. How you said that it’s important to share things that’re painful and I was wondering...” Kurt picked at the fuzz on his blanket before continuing, “do you have anyone to talk to?”

Of course Kurt picked up on his own wistful reflections during their last talk. And of course, it was like Kurt to be worried about others first – it was just in his nature. “Elf, I gotta hand it to you. Somehow you’re always looking out for everyone else but yourself. Maybe I’ll tell you someday, but right now, just concentrate on yourself. I got Chuck, Ororo, and Hank for now.”

Kurt nodded before looking down to idly flip through the book Logan had given him.

Worried that he seemed to be rebuking him, which was not what Logan intended at all, he walked over to Kurt before placing a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about me, alright?” Figuring that was enough reassurance, Logan took a step back. “Now, any other burning questions?”

“Not now, but I can come up with a list later.”

Logan smirked. “Try to limit it to yes or no questions.”

“Will do,” Kurt returned with a slight laugh.

 

 

 

Lance once again stood before the wooden doors leading into the lavish mansion. It was kinda crazy, him being here within a few weeks, though for very different reasons. Last time, he had no time to think but just act to get Kurt the help he needed. Now, the looming doors were daunting, giving him pause on whether he should even knock. Inside was a bastion of do-gooders, ready to fight the likes of him. Doubt clouded his head: Was it really okay for him to be here? What if Kurt really didn’t want him here? What if it was just some elaborate setup to prank him? What if Kurt knew about his feelings and was going to mock him in front of the other X-men? Could the Professor read his thoughts? Was he reading his thoughts right now? Maybe the Professor could be his matchmaker?

Before his thoughts could spiral into further outrageous scenarios, Kurt teleported right beside him.

Lance jumped a mile and let lose a high-pitched scream that could unsettle any nearby dogs.

Kurt burst into laughter. “You should’ve seen your face!”

Lance pushed Kurt. “Not funny. I almost had a heart attack.”

“No, it was definitely funny. What were you doing anyway? Doors open by pushing, not by staring. See?” Kurt demonstrated to Lance how to open the door.

“I thought knocking first might be polite.”

“Since when are you polite?”

“Since never,” Lance responded as he slightly pushed Kurt against the wall in the entryway. He smirked a challenge at Kurt.

Kurt rolled his eyes and said, “So mature,” before leading the way. “This way to the kitchen. I figured we could grab some snacks first.”

Lance sauntered past. “I know where it –” He was cut off as he tripped over Kurt’s timely placed foot.

“Now who’s mature!” Lance returned by grabbing Kurt’s shoulders and shoving him against the wall. He tried not to think about their position as Kurt stomped on his foot.

Kurt twisted out of his hold and shoved him with his shoulder. “Last one to the kitchen is a rotten leg.”

“Don’t you mean egg?” Lance shouted before reaching out to grab Kurt’s shirt before he could gain any more on him.

They horseplayed in the hallway, playfully pushing and shoving, neither making much progress to the kitchen, neither of them caring. One push pressed Lance right against a hallway claw-footed table, upsetting a decorative vase. It teetered for a second before plummeting towards the floor.

Kurt quickly dove, making a saving catch.

“ _Mein gott_ that was close.” Sharing a relieved sigh with Lance, he cradled the vase in his lap.

“Kurt? What’re you doing?” Scott was standing right over Kurt in the threshold of the kitchen. A big silver, bowl of popcorn obscured part of his face from Kurt’s position, but the raised eyebrows were enough to convey Scott’s confusion.

“Saving a vase. What does it look like he’s doing?”

“L-Lance?” Scott almost dropped the bowl of popcorn he was carrying.

Lance grinned, all teeth. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Scott stared at him before moving his gaze to Kurt then back to him. “Wh-wh?”

“Cat got your tongue?” Lance gloated at the discomfort painted across Scott’s face until a sharp pain in his foot caught his attention. “Ow, man.”

“Stop being a jerk,” Kurt said as he placed the vase carefully back on the table.

“I’m guessing you didn’t tell them I was coming?”

Before Kurt could defend himself, a voice drifted in behind Scott.

“Scott, stop standing in the doorway like a zombie. Aren’t we gonna watch…” Kitty trailed off as she peered over Scott’s shoulder to see what was blocking his way. Her eyes grew wide as they flickered back and forth between Kurt and Lance like pinballs before settling on Lance. “What’re you doing here?”

“I guess that answers my question,” Lance mumbled to Kurt.

Kurt laughed uncomfortably at the sudden confrontation. “ _Ja_ , sorry. Lance is hanging out with me. We’re kind of friends now,” he ended in a shrug. Kurt knew he should’ve told Kitty beforehand like Logan suggested but he just never got around to it. Whenever he was about to confess to their friendship, he’d lose his nerve. What if she didn’t approve? He should’ve just slipped a note under her door: “Hey, Kitty. How’s it going? Did you get a haircut? It looks nice. P.S. I’m friends with your ex-boyfriend :).”

“W-what?” It seemed that Scott still hadn’t recovered from his initial shock.

“Yeah, that’s right. We’re friends. Been friends for _months_ now.” Lance decided to rub it in a bit. He was the one that Kurt trusted now. He was the one who was there for Kurt. It also didn’t hurt to show Kitty that that’s right, she was totally out of the picture.

“Kurt? Is that true?” Kitty’s ire bulldozed right over any response from Kurt. “Why didn’t you say anything? Friends for months? You know he’s my ex, right? Like, don’t I have the right to know?”

“Well, _Ja_ , I guess.”

“You _guess_?”

“No, I mean, yes. I should’ve told you, but I was kind of worried how’d you react?” Kurt asked, as if unsure about what he was saying would rile her up or placate.

Kitty huffed out a sigh. “Well, of course I’d react. He’s my ex. That’s kinda important.”

Lance felt a little awkward being talked about while standing right there. He glanced over at Scott who looked just as uncomfortable, shifting the popcorn bowl back and forth in his hands.

“But you’ve been broken up for over a year. It just kinda happened.”

“You still should’ve told me. He’s my ex,” Kitty repeated herself as if somehow that would prove her point.

“We’re just friends.”

“Well, duh, I figured that. With Lance being straight and all.”

There was a pause in which several emotions sped through Lance like a careening sixteen-wheeler – a streak of shame that straight possibly wasn’t the best label for him, then a lull where it took Lance a second to study the flipside of Kitty’s words, leading to his heart stuttering in response as if hit by a live wire of joy, to denial stirred with repression, and finally settling upon anger. Who was Kitty to say whether they could be friends or not. As she kept saying, he’s her ex.

“ _Kitty_ ,” Kurt said while shifting from foot to foot and shooting pointed looks to Lance.

“Oh, I, um, I didn’t mean. That is….”

Lance had had enough of Kitty repeating herself ad nauseam. Besides, who was she to talk. She broke up with _him_. “Fucking Christ, Kitty. That’s right I’m your damn ex. As in over and done. Where do you come from saying who I get to be friends with?”

“I’m not–”

“Don’t be such an uptight - ” Lance glanced over to Kurt whose eyes had widened in anticipation to how Lance was going to finish the sentence. All Lance really wanted to do was to continue lashing out. He hated this whirlwind of emotions but he knew completing that thought out loud would cross a line. “Whatever. I don’t care. We’re still friends with or without your approval. Let’s go, Kurt.” He shouldered past Scott into the kitchen. With a mumbled “bitch” under his breath, he leaned against the counter and waited for Kurt to finish up with Kitty.*

When Kurt shuffled in, Lance felt an awkward weight settle across his shoulders. He first leaned onto the counter with his elbows and then with one hand cupping his face until finally settling to crossing his arms.

Kurt settled onto a barstool, head in his hands. Lance couldn’t meet his gaze, ashamed at his reaction to Kitty and instead stood transfixed on Kurt’s tail anxiously swishing behind him.

“Look, I’m sor-”

“Lance, what Kitty-”

Lance couldn’t help but slightly smile and snuff at their simultaneous start at a conversation. Feeling the tension ease a bit, Lance walked over and sat on the barstool next to Kurt.

“Hey,” Lance said as he knocked elbows with Kurt to get him to look at him. “Ok, look. I’m sorry I yelled at Kitty, but she kinda deserved it.”

“No, I should’ve told her. It’s my fault.”

“Fine, maybe,” Lance conceded. “At least before I came over cause, you know, awkward.”

“Ha, _Ja.”_

“You two gonna be ok?” Not that Lance really cared what Kitty thought anymore, but he figured it was important to Kurt.

“I think so. She said I better not teleport away when she busts into my room later since we’re not finished talking.”

“That’s good, I guess.”

Kurt shrugged in response.

They sat side-by-side. Both sneaking glances at each other but neither saying anything. Lance tapped a rhythm on the granite countertop while Kurt wrung his hands, until finally Kurt broke the silence.

“So, about what Kitty said, or didn’t say, really. But implied. Yeah, I guess implied.”

“About you being gay?”

“I guess you didn’t miss it.” Kurt let out a forced laugh. “What do you… Do you think….Do you, um, care?”

“Nah, man. It’s cool. Just don’t hit on me or anything like that.” Lance immediately wanted to hit his head against the counter as the words came out of his mouth, but instead let out a laugh to try to play it cool.

Kurt rolled his eyes in response. “No problem there.”

_No problem there_? _No problem there!_ What did that mean? Lance’s mind raced around that echo. Why was that no problem? Was he not good enough? Was there someone else? Before Lance could stop himself, he blurted out, “What does that mean?”

“Um, it means are you thirsty?”

Lance looked up and saw that he’d been so preoccupied with his thoughts that Kurt was now by the fridge and had obviously asked him a question.

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

“Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Cause, you know.” Kurt shrugged as if that could explain everything. “Are you weirded out or afraid or something?”

Lance could see as much as he was trying to play it cool, so was Kurt. It was probably a pretty vulnerable moment for him. Grinning, Lance did his best to put Kurt at ease. “I’m afraid I might be dying of thirst. Now give me a Coke, dickbag.”

Lance caught the Coke that was flung at his head just in time to prevent a giant goose egg. “Hey, watch it!”

“Jerk,” Kurt said as he climbed back up on the barstool next to Lance with a bag of gummy bears.

“Well, at least I’m not a rotten egg.”

“ _Was_?” Kurt looked totally clueless. Rummaging for a red gummy bear, he waited for Lance to explain.

“Hand me some too,” Lance commented. “You know, last to the kitchen is the rotten egg.”

“Don’t you mean leg?”

Lance took a sip of his Coke while looking sideways at Kurt. Some fizz escaped the rim as he clanked it onto the counter. “No. It’s rotten egg. Last one’s a rotten egg.”

“Ha, _was?_ No, it’s not. It’s leg. You know, like a zombie leg.” Kurt wiggled the gummy bear’s leg in his hand before biting it off.

“I like to eat the heads first.” Lance proceeded to demonstrate with a white one. “And it’s egg, man.”

“Dude, are you trying to trick me? It’s leg. They say it in the movies all the time.”

“Like in what?”

“I dunno. Just in movies.” Kurt gestured with his hand as if that could prove his point.

“Well, you heard it wrong. It’s egg.”

“No, it’s leg.”

“Egg.”

“Leg.”

“Who’s first language is English here?” Lance gloated, figuring he got Kurt there.

“Then why is it egg?”

Stumped for a second, Lance took a large swallow of Coke before being hit with an idea. “Cause rotten eggs are stinky and gross. Who wants to be a rotten egg? No one.”

“You know what’s worst than a rotten egg? A rotten leg. It has maggots and probably smells worse than bad egg.”

Lance sat dumbfounded, not able to think of a good response.

“So now that we know I’m right, wanna go practice?”

“You’re not right and let me finish my Coke.”

Kurt just smirked in response, knowing he’d won.

Throwing his Coke in the trash, Lance grumbled about smart alecks and poor winners.

 

The austere, metal walls of the Danger Room were a sharp contrast to the soft, cushioned blue mats lining the floor and the beckoning apparatuses. The stillness of the Danger Room was at first off-putting, but soon Lance appreciated the solitude. No other teammates to distract them. No reminders of Trieg. Just him and Kurt, practicing and goofing off. They had started off first with all good intentions of getting in some serious practice, but soon their work deteriorated into messing about. Kurt had devised a game where one of them would swing around on the high bar while trying to catch gummy bears in his mouth thrown from the other. Soon heaps of gummy bears littered the mat, forming a colorful battlefield composed of sticky corpses.

“I think we tied. We both caught 4,” Kurt said as he picked up a few of the scattered bears and popped one into his mouth.

“You got 4. I got 4 and a half. I caught one in my mouth but it fell out. I think that should count for a half,” Lance said as he picked up a bear that had bounced a little further than the rest. It was an orange one. His favorite.

“Gross. Lance germs. I hope I didn’t eat it.” Kurt looked down at the last gummies he’d picked up, testing to see if any seemed salvia soaked.

“Whatever. It’s not like I have herpes. Now move aside. I actually want to practice my routine. Spot me?”

Kurt nodded as he tossed in the last handful of gummy bears he picked up back into the bag and stepped just to the side of the high bar.

The routine went pretty well. A few wobbly maneuvers but a definite improvement. Until the dismount. Lance botched it bad enough that he stumbled right into Kurt, knocking them both down. He landed on top, faces mere inches away.

He couldn’t believe it. Did he now have some power where his dreams were actual premonitions? Cause this was almost exactly like his dream oh so many weeks ago. All he needed to do was lean forward and kiss him. The urge was almost overwhelming. He could already imagine the slight, fruity taste of the kiss from the lingering gummy bears. He just needed to close…the…gap.

“Ugh, Lance. You’re heavy. Get off.”

Lance shot up. Heart pounding. He was going to do it. If Kurt hadn’t said anything. He would’ve….

“I’m not heavy. You’re just weak.” Lance tried to respond as naturally as he could but he a small quiver still threaded through his voice. Desperate to recover his composure and needing to put some distance between them, he walked over to his water bottle, putting his towel in his lap to try to cover any evidence of his arousal. His mind wouldn’t stop picturing how the scenario could’ve gone differently. How he had imagined before in his dreams.

Weren’t you supposed to picture horrifying images of old, naked people in these situations? He just had to think of something… like old, saggy balls. That should do it. _Old, saggy balls. Old, saggy balls_ , Lance repeated the mantra over and over in his head. The accompanying image seemed to be doing the trick.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Balls!” Lance yelled out in surprise. Kurt gave him the strangest look, so in a rush to cover up his mistake, Lance clung on to the first excuse the popped into his head. “I mean. I need to piss. I’ll be right back.” He hoped that his haste to exit the room would be chalked up to a pressing bladder.

The bathroom was strangely metallic like the rest of the subbasement. Only one small light blue mat and towel broke up the monotony of silver. Lance looked at his distorted reflection on the wall as he pissed into the toilet.

He couldn’t deny it any longer. Not to himself at least. It wasn’t simply some crush. He genuinely liked Kurt as more than just a friend. He hadn’t liked anyone like that. Not since Kitty way last year. And this seemed even different from that. Sure, with both Kitty and Kurt, the attraction is there. But with Kurt, there’s something different. Something that Lance couldn’t pinpoint down. Today, their times at lunch and at the park – all of it coalesced into this ball of warmth and giddiness that made him feel like a fucking lovesick school girl.

But he just wasn’t sure. About liking guys. Liking Kurt.

Drying his hands on the matching towel, Lance brushed the thoughts aside for now. He couldn’t deal with them now - not when object of thoughts was waiting right down the hallway. Recomposing himself, Lance stalked back to the Danger Room.

Kurt was sitting on a mat, one foot stretched out in front as he drank from his water bottle. His back was towards the door so he was totally clueless to Lance’s reentrance. Seeing a golden opportunity, Lance assumed the ubiquitous sneaking pose and tiptoed over to Kurt. When he was only a few feet from him, he sprung and grabbed him from behind, ready to tackle him to the ground. What he didn’t expect was the violent reaction from Kurt. As soon as he made contact, Kurt spun around on the ground, shoving hard at Lance while throwing in a solid kick that hit Lance’s shin before scrambling back.

Lance straightened up, rubbing his shin while staring at Kurt. Kurt was breathing heavily; fear danced in his eyes. After several long seconds, Kurt’s breathing slowed as he regained control. Lance didn’t understand. He wasn’t being _that_ sneaky.

“What happened?”

“I thought…” Kurt ran a shaky hand through his hair as he stood up. “I dunno. It felt like…reminded me of….you know.”

Lance felt his heart drop. “Sorry. I was just trying to scare you.”

Kurt barked out a short laugh. “Yeah. I guess it worked.”

“Was it like a flashback?”

Kurt shrugged his shoulders while crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Has anything… have you ever had this happen before?”

“No.”

Lance gave him a strange look. It’s not like he didn’t believe him, but there was something in the way Kurt said no that made Lance think he was omitting part of the answer. He didn’t know how to approach the topic, but he didn’t want to let the opportunity to talk about it get away. “Is it something else then?”

Kurt stood, staring off at nothing, back slightly turned from Lance. Lance shifted a bit, unsure of what to do, before Kurt turned to face him completely, obviously having reached some conclusion. “It’s just that sometimes it’s difficult. Like at school. Being in the locker room makes me feel like throwing up.”

Lance had noticed that Kurt had set new records at changing after gymnastics. All Lance could respond was, “Oh.” He hadn’t really thought about the huge sacrifice that Kurt had made in rejoining gymnastics for him. It made him feel guilty for pressuring him. “I’m sorry for asking you to come back to gymnastics. I didn’t-”

“No. It’s fine. I wanted to. None of it was your fault.”

“None of it was your fault either. You know that, right?”

“ _Ja_. But I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Lance didn’t believe Kurt for one second, but gave in. He’d already opened up more about the assault than he had in the past few weeks. “You still want to practice?”

“No. Why don’t we shower then watch something?”

Lance had to swallow at that. He knew Kurt didn’t mean shower, together, in one shower. But damn was this trying Lance’s control. “Yeah. Good idea.”

And the shower was a good suggestion. Lance leaned his head on his arm resting against the wall. The water streamed in rivulets down his back as his right hand picked up pace. His imagination didn’t have to stretch too far. All he had to do was revisit lying down on top of Kurt today and then combine that with him, in the shower. Probably only a few rooms over. Lance grasped himself a little tighter and in a few more furious strokes, shuddered as he reached his climax. He sagged a little bit against the wall, relaxing at the release of his pent up frustration and energy. Washing himself and the wall down thoroughly, now all he had to do was go back out and pretend he didn’t just jerk off to his best friend.  


 

 

Lance couldn’t stop wearing a path in the already threadbare carpet. Each pass formed a deeper rut until surely he’d wear straight through the floorboards to the center of the Earth. When he reached the end of his room, he’d stop, kick a pile of dirty laundry to the side and stare at his phone. His finger hovered over Mark’s name before he angrily shoved it back into his pocket until he reached the other side of his room, only to repeat the process again.

This wasn’t getting him anywhere, and besides, he was being a coward. Mark was his friend, right? He’d understand. And he had his psychologist parents’ knowledge to help him out. Get him through this whole mess.

Stopping in the middle of his room, Lance gave a glance towards his door. He could hear the muffled sounds of the TV. Good. No one would be listening in on his conversation. With a resigned sigh, Lance pulled out his phone, brought up the contacts screen and dialed Mark. He flopped backwards onto his bed as he waited for Mark to answer.

“Lance.”

“I’m not gay.”

There was a pause before Mark answered. “Ooookay. I’m glad you figured that out? Any reason you needed to tell me?”

“I’m not. I’ve even masturbated to Ms. Applegate.”

“TMI, man.” Mark made a gagging sound.

“Give me a break. Everyone’s gotten their rocks off to her in her short little skirts and low-cut tops. Discipline me harder, Ms. Applegate.” Lance slapped his bed sheets and groaned a little just to gross Mark out some more.

“Ugh. Not an image I needed. Keep your school fantasies to yourself.”

“But, you see then, right?”

“About you not being gay?”

Lance sat up on his bed and gestured around in emphasis. “Exactly.”

“Then why are you telling me?”

“Because, um….” Lance jiggled his leg, trying to work up the nerve to tell Mark all he’d be stressing over.

“It’s obvious.”

“It is?” Lance couldn’t believe it. Was he really that blatant in his feelings?

“Yeah. I’m flattered, but you just can’t compare to Shelly.”

“Oh shut up, asshole.” Lance could practically hear Mark smirking through the phone.

“Then who is it?”

“What do you mean?”

Lance could practically hear Mark roll his eyes. “Well, out of the blue, you’re calling to tell me you’re not gay, so that means you obviously like some guy.”

“What? No, I –”

Mark ignored Lance and continued doling out his observations. “And since you chose to call me and not Kurt, then you probably like –”

“Whoa, no stop.” Lance glanced at his door before rolling off his bed and sinking down beside it. The bed formed a barrier between his secrets and the rest of the Brotherhood.

“Lance.”

“I just. How can I like a guy? I like girls. I think about girls. I don’t really think about guys.” Now that was a lie. More like he tried to suppress thinking about guys.

“Do you think about kissing him?”

Lance sighed, scared to answer. He toed a dirty, red sock into one of the larger laundry piles. This was why he called Mark. His blunt questions, straight to the point and his no nonsense answers. Readjusting the phone in his hand, Lance answered, “Yeah.”

“Masturbate to him?”

“Seriously?!”

“You described in detail how you masturbate to Ms. Applegate and now you’re being all prudish?”

“Fine. Ok, yeah.” Before he knew it, Lance was spilling all the little, dirty details from his last session. “I was at… his place, in the shower. God. Do you think he heard me? I think I washed it all down. There was this conditioner there that was pretty slick. Kind of a nutty smell. It made a good lu-”

“No details! The images. They burn!”

“Now who’s a prude.”

“Whatever. So you like both girls and guys.”

“Like both, huh.”

“Yeah, like bisexual. You see, the prefix bi means two. Thus you like two sexes – men and women.”

“Oh, shut up. I know what bisexual means. I’ve thought about that before, but I just wanted to be, I dunno, normal.”

“What the hell is normal? And who the hell cares about what’s normal any way? You didn’t seem the type.”

Lance cringed at that. Mark was right. He usually was one to go against the status quo just to be contrary. Why now should he care? Lance didn’t know what to say because despite all of what Mark said, he still felt that uncomfortable twinging in his chest.

“Look, stop stressing about it. If you want to act on it, then act on it. If you don’t, then don’t. That simple.”

“That simple,” Lance repeated. There was still that lingering doubt, but the way Mark said it so plainly somehow put Lance at ease. And in a way, he was right. If he wanted to act on it, then he should. But then, what about Kurt? How would he react? “So, say I did want to act on it. But I didn’t know how the other guy-”

“Kurt.”

“Fine, Kurt,” Lance grumbled. Mark could be so annoying when he knew he was right. “I don’t know how he’d react.”

“Just do what you’d normally do. Start small. Test the waters.”

“Usually, I’d smile, you know like ‘hey, baby,’ and then they’d smile and blush back. Boom, we like each other.”

“This isn’t just some random chick you’re hooking up with.”

Lance leaned back his head against the baseboard of his bed. “No. Why is this so difficult?”

“Cause you’re making it so. Just start off by coming over and sitting with us at lunch. How about that?”

Lance sat up. That was a pretty good idea. More than Mark knew. At first, he had avoided sitting over with Kurt because he was ashamed of their friendship. And he didn’t want to be teased by the other Brotherhood members. But he couldn’t really say he likes Kurt and then refuse to be seen with him. That was pretty shitty. And now Kurt had had him over to the mansion. Had even declared their friendship in front of Kitty and Scott. He should return the favor.

“Alright. I can do that. Monday.”

“Good. You ready for Saturday?” And like that, the conversation was dropped. Lance chatted with Mark about the upcoming gymnastics tournament all the while thinking through possible scenarios of the lunch room come Monday.

 

 

 

Kurt had a slight smile on his face as he walked through the large passageways of the stadium. The first half of the tournament had gone swimmingly. Lance was in third place, _third place!_ , right behind Mark on rings. He wasn’t doing too shabby himself, with a strong, solid score on the vault that’ll probably hold for 1st place and a good showing on the parallel bars that might wind up being 2nd or 3rd. And he still had three apparatuses left, including his best, floor.

And not to mention that not only had Logan come like he promised, Jean and Scott had shown up too, both already finished with their college finals. Kurt couldn’t help but wave like a maniac when he spied them earlier while the Bayville Hawks were being introduced. He was now on his way to chat with them for a bit during the break. Maybe relieve Scott of a few of his nachos that he saw him snacking on.

A tight grip encasing his left wrist pulled him from his thoughts while a rough hand curled around his hip prevented him from turning around.

“Keep walking or I show everyone what you really are,” growled the voice behind him. The grip tightened around his wrist and the band of his watch, giving credence to the threat.

Kurt nearly froze in fear, strangled on the dread rising from the pit of his stomach to gag in his throat. Somehow he managed to continue to put one foot forward after another. On autopilot when all he wanted to do was run and run and run or crumple into a heap. His heart beat a staccato rhythm, so fast and loud, he was sure the crowd around him could hear it. But no one spared him a glance.

The passing crowd become like moving, grey fog – separating and parting around Trieg and him as he was forced away from the busy center to the outskirts of the passageway. With unforgiving strength, Trieg turned him around and took a menacing step forward, closing the already small gap between them.

Backed against the wall and now face to face with Trieg again, Kurt couldn’t help but tremble as nausea rose up his throat.

Trieg’s face was a picture of pure anger. A vein pulsed along his temple as the muscles in his arms bulged as they continued to squeeze Kurt’s wrist. His pupils swallowed up the iris of his eyes, giving him an edge of insanity.

“I lost my job because of you,” Trieg said as he pushed further up against Kurt. Kurt could feel the heat from Trieg’s chest and could practically hear the beat of his heart in time with the pulsing of his vein. “You know what I could do? _Do you_?” Trieg roughly shook Kurt, eliciting a small “no.”

“I could rip off your watch right now and reveal you to this whole crowd.” The pressure on Kurt’s wrist increased. He could feel his bones grinding against each other as he let out a pained whine. “But I’m not. You know why?”

Terrified, Kurt could only shake his head in response. He watched Trieg’s face transform – his mouth parting slightly and his eyes flared with lust. A small tremor rippled through Kurt’s body as Trieg ran his free hand up underneath his shirt, behind his back and down.

“Cause you’re going to come with me and do _everything_ I say. You’re going to make it up to me. It’s what I deserve. You got it?” Trieg pressed his leg in between Kurt’s, as he ran his hand along and underneath the base of Kurt’s tail.

Kurt wanted to cry, wanted to scream, but all his mind did was shut down. He let out a small, whispered, “Don’t.” He could feel the pleasure from Trieg’s hand stroking his tail mix in with his panic and terror. He jerked away but Trieg’s hold was right.

“Don’t think I’d do it?” Trieg moved his hand away from Kurt’s tail to the watch, ready to tear it away. Kurt scanned the passing crowd, unsure if he was hoping someone would notice them or not. A few people glanced their way, but no one seemed to suspect anything was wrong.

“So, I’m going to tell you one more time. You’re going to make it up to me. Make everything up. _Do…_ _you…_ _got…_ _it_?”

Kurt could only nod.

As Trieg led him away from the crowd, he mentally called out to Jean, hoping she’d hear while desperately reassuring himself that he at least had one last avenue of escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Lance still isn't a nice, PC guy.


	11. Chapter 11

 

Kurt was roughly flung into an empty, secluded storeroom. He landed harshly on the cold concrete - his knees cracking against the hard floor, his hands barely catching himself in time so he wasn’t flat out on the ground. Quickly, he scrambled to his feet but couldn’t suppress a flinch when Trieg flipped on the lights. The dim, lone bulb only accentuated the small space. As Trieg’s heavy breathing filled the room, Kurt could feel bile rising in his throat. His thoughts spun around the mantra of “no.” He backed up, keeping watch on Trieg while also eyeing the distance to the doorway. Trieg’s approach spurred his heart into overdrive.

“Looking for a way out?” Trieg smirked, knowing his large stature blocked any route to escape. “I doubt this time anyone will be interrupting us.”

Trieg slowly closed the gap between them – each intimidating step causing Kurt’s breath to quicken. He reached out towards the wall behind him, looking for some anchor, something solid to ground his thoughts away from the fear and panic threatening to consume him. It was just so hard when Trieg was right there in front of him.

He crossed under the singular bulb causing his face to fall from shadow to highlighted in its callousness.

“Just us. No one to stop me from getting my just desserts.”

Kurt took one purposeful step back. But it wasn’t a step in retreat. His hand made contact with the wall, and he concentrated on the roughness of the concrete. It was a step that helped him focus. Helped remind him that he still had some control of the situation.

Now just inches away, Trieg reached out his hand towards Kurt’s face.

Burying his shame and fear while gathering his courage, Kurt looked up, staring straight into Trieg’s eyes and slapped the hand away. He refused to reveal any turmoil raging inside; instead, a fierce expression was painted across his face. “I’ll stop you.”

With that, he revealed the ace up his sleeve and teleported.

 

 

The shower stall was empty, its blue curtain shielding Kurt from the rest of the locker room bathroom. He could hear someone finishing up just outside, humming some ditty under their breath as they turned on the sink. Luckily, they must’ve not heard him porting into the stall.

He felt undone. Now that the moment was over, his fleeting triumph faded fast. He couldn’t stop the tremors in his hands or slow down his heart. He backed away from the curtain, needing to get as far away as possible from any person, any possible threat. His calves hit the low bench of the shower, and he quietly sat down, arms clutching knees. He buried his face in his knees while his hands gripped his hair. He curled his tail around his feet, just waiting for some sense of calm to descend.

He wanted to throw up. One of the few things that had helped him over the past few weeks was knowing that Trieg was gone. Wouldn’t leer at him, touch him, caress him ever again. A false comfort completely shattered. Had he been there the whole time? Watching him during the tournament? Or what about while he was at school? Trieg had driven him home once.  Had he been outside the mansion too?

He didn’t know how long he sat there – it felt like both an eternity and a millisecond. Letting his thoughts run was a mistake. Somehow he felt even worse with all scenarios speeding through his head. Shakily, he checked his inducer. It had only been five minutes. There were still 30 more minutes left of the break. He couldn’t, wouldn’t allow himself to sit there for the rest of it.

As had been shown to him the past few weeks, he wasn’t alone. He didn’t have to face it without help.

Pushing open the curtain was the hardest first step. The locker room was mostly empty. The few in there were too busy stretching or pepping themselves up to pay attention to Kurt.

The hallways stretched miles as Kurt constantly kept glancing over his shoulders or in the shadows. His hands were clenched at his sides, trying his best to keep himself from falling apart from the ever-present fear.

The steep stairs leading to the stadium seating were the last obstacle, but he could see them now – Jean, Scott and Logan. Their presence was enough to abate some of his panic, but they were also intimidating. He had given Jean and Scott a bare bones rundown of what had happened with Trieg. And of course, they were supportive. And recently, Logan had been more than just a teacher – a mentor of sorts. But having to tell them it had happened again… it froze him to the spot.

Then Logan caught his eyes and that was all that was needed for him to come rushing down the stairs.

“What’s wrong?” Logan grasped his shoulders and stared intensely, as if he had developed telepathy and could read his mind.

Kurt felt his adrenaline rise again. He tried to swallow down his fear, but instead it ran like molasses down his throat to settle into a tight encasement around his heart. “ _He_ was here.”

Logan immediately began scouring the audience before turning his attention back to Kurt. “Where!” He practically growled out.

“The hallways.” The pressure and proximity of Logan was getting to be too much. He twisted a bit and took a step back.

Logan breathed in deep, regaining his own composure. By now, Jean and Scott had joined them on the bottom stair. A few people gave them dirty looks as they pushed past them with their popcorn and soda.

“What’s wrong?” Jean glanced worriedly between Kurt and Logan.

Ignoring her, Logan continued questioning Kurt. “Did he do anything?”

Kurt’s expression must’ve given something away because he suddenly found himself being directed out the vomitorium and into the hallways. Surrounded by Jean, Scott, and Logan, he felt like he was being escorted by his own personal security detail. Even still, he couldn’t help but keep darting his eyes every which way until they reached a more secluded area.

Logan eventually stopped them in a shadowed recess of the hallway when he deemed the crowd had thinned enough.

“Alright. First, you okay?”

Kurt nodded. The brief walk had helped him reign in his fear. While he wasn’t feeling as desperate as he did before, an unsettling feeling still permeated every thought, every action.

“He didn’t hurt you?”

Kurt shook his head. “No.” Though that was a bit of a lie. Now that the adrenaline had subsided, a throbbing in his wrist was making itself known. While he appreciated Jean and Scott’s concern, their presence was off-putting. He knew Logan was going to want details, but with them around, it was difficult to be open.

“Jean, you remember Coach Trieg?”

A dawning light spread through Jean’s eyes at the mention of Trieg. “He was here?! What did he do? Are you okay?”

“Im ok-”

Scott’s hand rose up to his glasses automatically, peering out suspiciously at any passerby, as he chimed in. “ _What_! I can’t believe he’d try again! And-”

“Stop. Both of you,” Logan cut them off. Well trained, both immediately complied. “First, as you can see, Kurt is ok.”

Kurt immediately nodded, not wanting to raise any more questions.

Jean and Scott looked dubious, but Logan was still talking so they said nothing.

“As I was asking, Jean and you too Scott, do you remember Coach Trieg?”

“I had him for P.E.  ninth through twelfth grade,” Jean responded. She cast a side glance towards Kurt.   _Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t seem it._

Kurt was a bit surprised at Jean’s sudden intrusion, but at least it didn’t seem like she was trying to read his thoughts. _I’m fine. Really._

_Okay. Just… let me know if I can do anything to help._

_I think Logan’s already telling you how._

Jean looked over to Logan who was staring at her with a raised eyebrow. “You finished?”

“Yes, sorry.”

“Good,” Logan continued. “I want you to start scanning for him and follow the hall clockwise. Scott, you start counter-clockwise. If you see him, then contact me _first_. If not, meet up back at our seats.”

“Got it,” Scott said. Face furrowed with intensity, he turned towards Kurt. “We’ll find him and stop him.” He took a step down the hallway before suddenly turning back. “And you know what?” A smile spread over his face. “You were amazing out there! First place, all the way!” He slapped Kurt on the back before taking off down the hall, head already swiveling back and forth.

Kurt couldn’t help but smile at Scott’s enthusiasm and praise.

“He’s right. Very impressive.” Jean also had a smile on her face.

Kurt appreciated what they were both trying to do and for a brief moment, it worked. “Thanks.”  

Jean nodded before heading the opposite direction of Scott - her thoughts focused outward on expanding her telepathic range.

That brief moment faded as soon as Logan turned his attention back towards him.

“Alright, they’ll let us know if they find anything. But first, tell me exactly what happened.”

Kurt hugged his wrist to his chest, feeling the dull pain spike as he recounted his encounter with Trieg. “I was going to go grab some Gatorade for Lance, Mark and me then visit you guys when Trieg came up from behind. He grabbed my wrist and said he’d tear off my inducer unless I did what he said.”

Logan stared stonily at Kurt, his teeth clenched in anger.

Watching Logan’s suppressed rage rise and having to retell everything so soon was making his throat tighten. Kurt looked anywhere but at Logan. “I-I didn’t know what else to do, so I let him lead me to some storeroom. But I teleported out as soon as he let go.” He shrugged at the end, as if telling himself that it wasn’t such a big deal.

“Did he touch you in any way?”

Remembering Trieg’s caress down his back and along his tail made his breath slightly hitch. But it had been so brief a moment, it didn’t really count.

Just as Kurt was about to shake his head in denial, Logan stopped him. “Don’t. Don’t cover up for him.”

Whatever else Logan was going to say was cut off by Lance’s untimely approach.

“Kurt! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Mark’s buying nachos and I already picked up the Gatorade no thanks to your slow ass….” As Lance drew closer, his voice drifted off when he finally saw an irate Logan next to a distraught-looking Kurt. “What’s wrong?”

Kurt wordlessly pleaded with Logan to explain. He didn’t want to have to again.

Logan must’ve caught on as he simply said, “Trieg was here.”

Lance almost came unglued - his eyes becoming twin burning pinpricks while he clenched his fist so tight, making as if he was going to punch the wall. “That fucking _asshole!_ ”

Kurt felt guilty for bringing Lance into his problems when he really should just be concentrating on the tournament at hand. “I’m fine.” He tried to smile brightly but it felt weird and strained, so he let it fall from his face.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Lance acerbically replied.

“I didn’t let him do anything. I teleported away,” Kurt meekly defended. He felt like he had to. This time he really did try to escape as soon as possible. Not like all the other times before. This time he really wasn’t at fault. …Or was he? Maybe he should’ve teleported sooner? But then what if anyone saw? Then again, no one saw Trieg fondle him in the hallway. And Trieg was so angry that he had lost his job because of him. If Kurt had stopped him from the very beginning, maybe it wouldn’t have gotten so out of control. Kurt felt his breath quicken as his thoughts began to spiral.

A slight tremor under foot tore Kurt away from his turmoil.

“I’m not going to let him get away this time. Where is that fucker?”

“Get yourself under control _now_ ,” Logan ordered.

For a second, it looked like Lance was about to retaliate before he let out a big put-upon sigh and nodded. He took a deep breath before releasing a snuff of air that he somehow made sound exasperated. He rolled his eyes to look at Logan, as if asking if that was satisfactory enough.

Logan just ignored Lance’s attitude. “Scott and Jean are scouring for him now. We’ll know as soon as they find something. We’re going to the locker room, gathering your stuff,” Logan directed towards Kurt, “and then leaving.”

“What?”

“We’re not staying if Trieg’s around, and do you think you’re ready to get out there and stand in front of the whole stadium?”

While Kurt could admit to himself he was still shaken up, he didn’t want to leave either. “I can’t abandon my team like that.”

_Logan, Scott and I didn’t find any sign of Trieg. I don’t think he’s here anymore. I’ve scanned the whole stadium as best as I can and didn’t find a stray thought that belonged to him._

_Hn. Okay, stay where you are. We’ll join you soon._

Kurt felt conflicted at Jean’s news. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Trieg to still be around and to have everyone confront him or for him to have just disappeared so he didn’t have to deal with him.

“Jean said Trieg’s gone,” Logan relayed.

“Then it should be ok, right? For me to compete.”

“If you could see how you look…”

Kurt could tell, though, that Logan just needed a bit of a push to relinquish. The danger was clear, and Logan was a sucker for loyalty. “If I leave now, our team could be disqualified.”

“I’m fine with that. And I think the rest would be too if they knew.” Kurt did not appreciate Lance’s interjection.

Actually, Kurt wasn’t looking forward to going back out for the second half, but it was something he had to do. Sure, he didn’t want to leave his team hanging. But more than that, he wanted to prove to himself that Trieg couldn’t hold that much sway over him. Prove that standing up to Trieg was not just some fluke.

“I’m fine, I swear.” Which was more a reassurance to himself than to the others.

“Your wrist going to be okay?” Logan directed his stare to the wrist Kurt was still clutching at.

It hurt, but he’d had worse. “It’s fine.” Kurt moved his wrist around, suppressing a wince, as if to prove his point.

Logan looked a bit unconvinced but began walking towards the locker area. “Let me wrap it up for you. No need to risk further injury.”

Logan would never admit to giving in, but Kurt had gotten better at reading “Loganism.” He’d gotten his way. He wasn’t sure if he should feel triumphant or not.

He trailed a bit behind Logan with Lance by his side.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Did he, you know… do anything?”

Kurt was getting awfully sick of hearing that question. “Lance, I swear. I’m fine. He didn’t do anything that bad.”

“That bad? What does that mean?”

“Nothing. I mean …” Kurt made the mistake of looking at Lance. The concern in his eyes struck a nerve with Kurt, causing him to be a bit more open. “It was just some manhandling. Nothing like what you saw before, okay.”

“That isn’t much of a comfort.”

They walked in uncomfortable silence until suddenly Lance grabbed Kurt ‘s hand, stopping them in their tracks. “Hang on.”

A woman holding some nachos grumbled behind them before rudely shoving into Lance and continuing down the hallway. “Really? Stopping in the middle of the hallway. Assholes.” Lance, in turn, shot her the middle finger before pulling them over to the side.

“Bitch,” Lance muttered and rolled his eyes.

Kurt ignored Lance’s crassness and gestured to Logan who was already fading into the crowd.  “We’re going to get behind.”

“Just once sec.” Lance blushed, raising Kurt’s curiosity.

Thinking Lance looked rather charming that way, Kurt decided to give him a moment to gather his thoughts.

 “You know… I know that you haven’t told me - maybe anyone - everything that Trieg did to you.” He rushed to add, “And you don’t have to. I’m not saying that. Just… Just know that I’m here and would be willing to listen.”

Kurt felt his own rising blush at the underlying sentiment. He wasn’t sure what had come over Lance to be so forthright in his emotions, and he doubly wasn’t sure why his heart decided to do a somersault in his chest. Either way, it was hard running a gamut of emotions in one small 40 minute break. “Thanks. I, um – ”

Whatever Kurt was going to say was cut off by Logan stalking over to them angrily. “Somehow, in the short walk to the locker room you two had the time to get lost and cause me to have a heartatt- worry about what the hell happened to you two?!”

Feeling guilty at the unwarranted stress he caused Logan, Kurt apologized. “Sorry. We were just talking and got distracted.”

Logan made a noncommittal reply but seemed accepting of the apology. “If we’re gonna stay and do this, I want you with someone always. Me, Lance, Jean, or Scott, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And make sure to contact Jean immediately if anything happens. She’ll have her mind open.”

“Alright.”

Logan took a second to look Kurt up and down. Kurt squirmed under the obvious judgment, willing himself to suppress any anxieties while trying to dredge up even an ounce of confidence and calm.

He must’ve found what he was looking for, for Logan nodded. “Okay, then.” He gestured down the hall to the locker room, forcing them to walk in front the rest of the way.

 

The locker room was crowded now that there were only a few minutes left until the tournament resumed. Logan got some curious glances but no one stood up to stop him.

Lance, Mark, and Kurt had set up their stuff towards the back of the room, and there was Mark, munching on the last of his nachos.

As soon as he spotted them, Mark put down his nachos on the bench and rushed over. “What’s wrong? Who’s this?” He eyed Logan suspiciously for a second before turning back to Lance and Kurt.

“He’s one of the teachers at the boarding house I’m at,” Kurt explained.

“Why’s he back here? What’s wrong? You all look upset.”

Lance waved him away. “Later, okay?”

Mark seemed upset – once again being left out of the loop. Kurt felt guilty but now was not the time or place. “I promise. Just not now. Besides, don’t you want to finish your nachos? How do you even eat in the middle of a competition? Especially when you still have the high bar left.” Kurt made a retching noise.

Mark took the hint and let it drop. He shrugged. “Dunno. Stronger stomach.”

“C’mon. I wanna get that wrist wrapped up before joining Scott and Jean.” Logan led Kurt over to his bag and began rummaging around before pulling out a beige bandage.

The rest of the locker room buzz faded to the background as Logan wrapped his wrist. Sitting down for the first time, really stopping since Trieg had attacked, Kurt’s anxieties shot back up as he thought about all the maybes and what ifs. He tried his best to breathe evenly, not wanting Logan to change his mind.

Logan’s gentleness as he carefully wrapped the Ace bandage around his wrist was in sharp contrast to the lingering frustration on his face. Kurt tried to focus on that, on anything besides what had happened.

“What’re you thinking?” Logan pried as he did up Kurt’s wrist.

Kurt just shrugged his shoulders, not really wanting to have Logan privy to his thoughts right now.

Logan was silent a second, taking a glance at Lance who hadn’t left Kurt’s side, as if judging him worthy of what he was going to say, before voicing his thoughts. “I think I can wager a guess.  I’ve said this before to ya and I’m gonna repeat myself again cause I think you need to hear it: Nothing you could’ve done would’ve changed anything. This is all Trieg’s doing.” Kurt made to protest as if this wasn’t what he’d been dwelling on but Logan barreled on. “You can say over and over you’re fine all you want, but doesn’t mean it’s true. Just know, that _I_ know and _Lance_ knows and so does the Professor and everyone else – you are not to blame.”

Kurt sat there in silence, not sure how to respond.

“Alright. That should help.” Logan affixed the silver clasp before getting up from the bench. “I’m gonna join Scott and Jean.” He paused, as if going to add something else, but changed his mind. Instead, he put a reassuring hand on Kurt’s shoulder before heading out.

Kurt felt embarrassed but also somehow slightly more at ease.

A large clap drew everyone’s attention to the front of the locker room. A judge in a red tie with blue silhouettes of figures in gymnastic poses stood in the doorway. “Alright, guys. Time to make your way back out. Great first half of the tournament and great spectator turnout. Very exciting stuff!” The judge clapped his hands, this time in excitement, before turning around to leave.

“That guy seems way too enthusiastic about gymnastics,” Lance commented as he sat down next to Kurt.

Kurt nodded.

 “Logan’s right, you know. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know.”

“No, you obviously really don’t.”

Kurt adjusted his bandage a bit and grabbed his handgrips before standing up. “Lance, we have to go.”

Frustrated, Lance ran a hand through his hair. “I have your back. Ok? Always.”

Kurt froze, struck by the absolute truth resonating in Lance’s voice. First their earlier conversation and now this. He felt a small smile rise on his face. He turned back to Lance who was still sitting on the bench, looking uncomfortable and embarrassed. Kurt had the strange urge to kiss him.

His brain stalled, each thought crashing into that first sudden, out-of-nowhere impulse until the pile up was almost overwhelming.

“You guys ready for this? We’re gonna do the shit out of some gymnastics!” Mark’s comment was enough to break Kurt out of his brain loop.

“Hell yeah we are.” Lance stood up and beat his fist against his palm in excitement.

Brushing away his epiphany, Kurt joined in. “Läßt tun es.”

 

Back out in front of the whole stadium - all eyes staring down - it was almost like standing in front of an audience without his inducer on. Like somehow they could all tell what had happened and found him wanting. He closed his eyes, trying to calm his nerves.

_Hey, you got this, Kurt!_ Jean’s voice rung through his head. He looked up at where she sat and saw only encouragement. Logan gave him a slight nod. His gaze then traveled over to Lance, who was watching him with intense eyes. He mouthed something, but Kurt couldn’t make it out.

He took a step up to the mat and let everything fade. Logan, Scott & Jean, his throbbing wrist, Trieg, Lance. All to the back of his mind. All that mattered was what was in front of him. He took a deep breath, feeling an ease wash over him. The familiar, pliant blue beneath him. This was where he belonged.

With that, he let muscle memory take over.

 ~~~

 The last week of school before the break was tough. Kurt couldn’t help but feel constantly on edge since Trieg’s assault at the tournament. He tried to concentrate on that moment just before he teleported away. Trieg’s face had been painted in complete shock. But, walking down the hallway, it was like he could just appear out of nowhere. But if Trieg did ever get near him again, he could always teleport away again , right? In fact, he always felt like he was a moment away from teleporting. He had to tamper down that feeling at school or he knew he’d bamf out of there as soon as someone dropped a heavy textbook or clamped him down on the shoulder in greeting. 

He couldn’t wait for the break. The only thing he dreaded was the opportunity of Logan and the Professor having more talks with him. He didn’t mind when the chats strayed far from Trieg, but recently, it seemed as if they were pressing the subject. Kurt was fine. _He was_. Besides, the Professor couldn’t find a trace of Trieg, despite using Cerebro. Cerebro was more useful towards tracking down mutants, not pervy gym teachers.

The Professor and Logan weren’t the only ones to take up the mantle of his badgering

Lance and Mark had also been a bit overprotective - always finding him during passing period. He had caught Mark up on what had happened at the tournament. Still, Kurt had taken to eating lunch with him this week to make sure he didn’t feel left out again.

“How do you eat this food every day?” Mark made a face at the tacos gracing his plate. They looked fairly normal if you could get past the wilted lettuce. It was the first bite that revealed the hidden truth.

“ _Ja_ , the horrors of a stale-tell shell.”

Mark shook his head in annoyance at Kurt but couldn’t help release a small huff of laughter.

Encouraged, Kurt continued on. “The staley shell tells a tale of a stale shell. You know what the stale shell tells?”

“What, pray tell?” Mark rolled his eyes up at the ceiling as if somehow his salvation to atrocious word play lied up there.

“Next time, choose the enchiladas.” Kurt took a bite of his gooey cheese tortilla. “I think the red sauce masks any grossness.”

“Give me a bite then.” Mark reached over and grabbed a forkful. He chewed for a second before mumbling, “Hmm, not bad.”

“I hint a delicate touch of chili powder and maybe a touch of cumin.” Kurt nodded regally as he examined the bite on his fork.

“Yes, yes. And Perhaps some garlic. Next time, garcon, go lighter on the salt.”

They were so distracted with their game of food critics that they both jumped a mile when Lance dropped his tray next to Kurt.

“What’re you losers up to now?”

Kurt almost thought that Lance was putting on a show of being an asshole for the Brotherhood but his smirk gave him away.

“Being idiots. Join us?” Mark asked.

Lance nodded and sat down. Kurt gave him a questioning look before directing his gaze at the Brotherhood who were looking shell-shocked at Lance’s betrayal. Lance shrugged in return, dismissing any concerns.

“So what’re you two being idiots about. Not like you aren’t always idiots.”

Kurt couldn’t help but brilliantly smile at Lance. Having him finally join them during lunch, in front of Pietro and the others… it felt good. Lance’s corresponding blush had Kurt thinking back to the tournament. Lance’s “always” and offer to listen… they tended to linger on in Kurt’s mind more often than not. It made him smile a touch when he thought of Lance.  And then there was that urge to kiss him. He didn’t know where that was coming from. It didn’t help how strangely disappointed he felt last week when Lance made it clear that he was straight as an arrow. It’s not like it mattered. He didn’t even like Lance that way. It was probably just indigestion.

Mark stole another bite of food off Kurt’s tray before answering Lance. “Talking about the food. Stealing Kurt’s lunch.”

Lance darted in with his own fork, stealing a bite for himself. “Hmm, not bad. I think the cafeteria lady likes you. Your enchiladas are way better than mine.”

“It’s probably because you’re an ass to them. And stop taking my lunch!” Kurt wrapped his arms around his tray and hovered over it, ready to protect it from thieving friends.

“I’m not an ass.”

“ _Ja_ , your ‘What shit are we eating today?’ was super polite and endearing.”

“Whatever.” Lance rolled his eyes before resigning himself to his own enchiladas.

“How’s your wrist today?” Mark eyed the black ACE bandage around Kurt’s wrist.

“Better. Thanks.”

“Says the master who got first place on floor after having it…” Lance trailed off, unintentionally bringing up Trieg.

Mark picked up the slack. “Not just floor, but also on the vault and high bar. Not to mention your second and third places. You’re not allowed to participate anymore. You make the rest of us look bad.”

Kurt refused to let Lance’s slip bring down the mood. “Says Mr. I got second on rings and pommel horse. And let’s not forgot Lance’s third on rings too.”

“Fucking Christ, it’s like we’re jerking each other off here,” Lance rolled his eyes but his smile belied the false modesty.

“We deserve it. So shut up.” Mark flicked a bit of the red sauce lingering on his fork at Lance.

“Dick,” Lance retorted while wiping off the specks from his face. “You better not have gotten some on my shirt.”

“Consider it payment for your negativity and _Arschloch_ demeanor,” Kurt said.

“I’ll show you arsh-lock demeanor,” Lance mumbled. Mark and Kurt just stared at him until he sighed. “Fine. Yes, I agree. We’re awesome.”

“That’s what I thought!” Mark took a triumphant bite of a distracted Kurt’s enchiladas.

“And since we’re so awesome, I feel like we need a toast to our awesomeness. Christ, they should serve booze at school. Let’s get drunk this weekend.”

“Can’t. I’m leaving Saturday,” Mark replied.

“Where to?”

“What my family always does during the break - visit my grandparents in Texas. Big family reunion type thing,” Mark said. “You guys?”

“Staying here,” Kurt shrugged. “I think my parents are going to visit my mom’s mom.”

“Why don’t you go with them?”

Kurt backed himself into a corner there. He couldn’t very well tell Mark that he never met his grandparents. It had been a bit of a sore spot, knowing that his grandparents wouldn’t accept him. His parents were too nervous to even try to let his grandparents know he existed. They said it was better off this way. He comforted himself with the fact that they didn’t sound like nice people anyway.

“Cause he’s gonna be entertaining me.” Lance came to the rescue. “We’ll be sure to have some drinks in your honor.”

Kurt grinned. “Sounds like a plan.”

“You know what my parents say about drinking,” Mark said.

Lance rolled his eyes. “And what’s that.”

“They’re psychologists; they know about the effects.”

“Here we go,” Lance groaned.

“Be safe, have a DD and if you’re gonna spew, spew in the toilet and not the sink, it’ll clog.”

“ _Was_?” Kurt and Lance exchanged bemused looks. “Your parents really say that?”

“No. Idiots. Though they did say if I do do it, to do it safely.” Mark shrugged.

 The five minute bell rung. They continued pattering on while throwing away their trash away before making their way to their next periods.

“Hey,” Kurt called to Lance before he turned down the hallway. He fidgeted a bit with his backpack. “Um, you wanna join us again tomorrow?”

Lance smiled. “Don’t think you can get rid of me so easily.”

Kurt laughed and walked off to his class.

 ~~~

 The chilly weather that plagued the winter ensured that the encroaching holidays had a sheet of snow blanketing the trees and houses. The flickering light from the dying fireplace danced shadows on the walls as Kitty headed down to the kitchen the night before Christmas Day. Earlier, they had roasted marshmallows and created s’mores after having a delicious dinner cooked by Logan and Ororo.

 Though her belly was full, she couldn’t help but sneak down to steal one more latke as a late night snack. Despite Chanukah happening earlier in the month, Ororo had thoughtfully made them based on Kitty’s own family recipe. Slathering on some sour cream and applesauce, Kitty wafted it beneath her nose. Thoughts of Chanukahs past – the menorahs’ light slowly dying down through the night, the levivot, and eight presents, each more exciting than the last – filled her mind. Though she missed her family’s traditions, she loved celebrating new ones with her other, mutant family. Besides, she’d go home for Passover and have her mom’s cooking then.

Carrying the plate up to her room, she noticed a sliver of light piercing the darkness of the hallway. Thinking it strange that he’d be awake – after all it was already past 1 a.m.- Kitty shifted the plate in her hand and knocked as quietly as she could.

“Kurt?”

There wasn’t a reply but she did hear some rustling and suddenly the light from under the door disappeared. Frowning, she repeated, a little more forcefully, “ _Kurt_.”

This time she got a reply. “Kitty? I’m sleeping, go away.”

Cause that’s not suspicious. Figuring she’d given him ample warning, she phased through the door and flicked the lights back on.

Kurt was buried under his covers, innocently blinking his eyes as if he had been sleeping. He looked off somehow. Kitty frowned a second, unconvinced.

“ _Was?_ ”

Kitty gave him a disbelieving look before spotting a stray, black scarf sitting innocuously on the floor by the bed.

“Going somewhere?” She asked as she held the scarf up.

“No? Just haven’t cleaned up in awhile.”

Kitty didn’t buy that for one second. Contrary to belief, Kurt was actually pretty tidy. She glanced around the rest of the spic ‘n span room. “Really.” With that, she walked over to the bed and wrestled the covers away from him.

Kurt reached to grasp the covers but Kitty was too fast. “Kitty, come on.” Resigned to his fate, he got up out the bed, revealing his black winter coat and pants while clutching a matching beanie in his hand.

“What’re you, a ninja?”

“Kitty,” Kurt said plaintively while reaching for his scarf.

Kitty held the scarf out of his reach as she looked him over. “Not very ninja-like,” she said as she threw his scarf at him. “Where are you going? It’s 1 a.m.!”

Kurt wrapped the scarf around his neck while fishing for something that was on the opposite side of the bed. “Promise you won’t tell anyone.”

“Promise. Now spill.”

“I told Lance I’d meet him.”

“At this hour?”

Kurt sat up, holding a small, matte red gift bag with bits of white tissue paper sticking up. “Well, Lance doesn’t really get to celebrate Christmas. Not with the Brotherhood, anyways. So… you know, I thought it might be nice to wish him a happy holiday.”

“At 1 a.m.? Couldn’t you, like, wait until tomorrow?”

Kurt shrugged. “Lance said he couldn’t tomorrow. Besides, we’re probably gonna be busy here.”

Kitty sat down next to him on the bed. “Then… can I see what you got him? He was so hard to shop for when we were dating. Like, what do you get a guy who likes being so…” she paused as if searching for a word that wouldn’t be too offensive, “so grumpy.”

“He’s not grumpy.”

Kitty gave Kurt a look and rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Let me see.”

Kurt handed over the bag, and Kitty eagerly reached in. She pulled out a pair of thick, two-toned black leather gloves.

Kitty sat in silence for a second before turning to Kurt with a raised eyebrow. “Gloves… like for real?”

“ _Was_?”

“That just seems so impersonal.”

“Well, I noticed Lance’s gloves were looking worse for wear and he’s always complaining how cold his hands are outside.  And he’ll sometimes grab mine to warm his up – says I’m like a fur coat or something – and his fingers get all red when we’re playing in the snow. So, I thought it might be nice if he got new ones….” Kurt explained as he felt a heat rush to his face. It seemed so embarrassing to explain his reasoning for buying the gift.

“Wow! I take it back. That was really thoughtful.” Kitty examined the gloves a bit closer. They were a nice pair with a subtle weave on the front as well as the inside being fur-lined. Kitty sat back, a dawning look of comprehension on her face. “Oh my god.”

“ _Was_?”

“Oh my god,” she repeated while turning huge eyes towards Kurt.

 “What?”

“You like Lance!”

“ _Was_?! I do not. Why would you even-”

“The gift and the way you talk about him and it’s _fur-lined_. And you are _so_ blushing.”

“Am not! You can’t even tell when I’m blushing! You can’t see it through the fur.” Kurt suppressed the desire to stick his tongue out at her.

“Your tail gives you away. It does this little loopy thing,” Kitty drew in the air with her finger to illustrate, “and it totally was. Your tail was blushing!”

Kurt blushed even more at that. He didn’t know if it was out of embarrassment for Kitty to point out an idiosyncrasy or if because there was a ring of truth in her statement about Lance.

“See! There it goes again!”

Kurt grabbed his tail in one hand to prevent it from betraying him. “Well, I don’t.” Though he knew he was beginning to question his feelings towards Lance. He didn’t know when he had started to possibly like him in that way. Somehow, it had snuck up on him. Obviously, Lance was good-looking, but that’s just surface. Now, Kurt caught himself thinking about the small things Lance did, replaying some of their conversations in his head. _Sheisse_.

“See?” Kitty could read Kurt’s thoughts like a book.

“No,” Kurt said petulantly. “Besides, it wouldn’t matter even if I did like him. Lance’s straight as a board.”

“Maybe. But he is the one who wanted to meet so late.”

“You’re just reading too much into things.” He snatched the gloves out of Kitty’s hands and tucked it back inside the bag. “Besides, as you said a million times, he’s your ex.”

With a smirk firmly in place, Kitty watched Kurt artfully rearrange the tissue paper back to his liking. “Yeah, that was different. I was caught unawares. But now, like, I know you like him, so it’s okay…. But he’s still a jerk.”

Kurt just shook his head, confused at Kitty’s logic. “Whatever. You’re wrong anyway.” He did a quick sweep of the room, making sure he had everything one last time. “Ok. Don’t tell anyone I’m gone?”

“My lips are sealed.” She made a gesture as if zipping her lips before dropping her hands to her side. “Just, you know, be safe.” Kitty couldn’t help but be a bit worried with everything that had happened recently to Kurt.

“Promise.” With that, he teleported.

 

 

Logan was growing frustrated. He could see that Kurt’s last encounter with Trieg had really shaken him. He was constantly busy – first with finals at school, then hanging out with Lance and that Mark kid, training with Scott, even cooking with Kitty.  Most likely doing every thing but actually deal with his issues. Logan thought it was unhealthy, but he didn’t know how to confront him. What if he ended up just making the situation worse?

One thing for sure, sneaking out was _not_ the fucking answer. Didn’t he know how worried Logan had been about him recently. How skipping off in the middle of the night while Trieg was out there was so foolish. Though the likelihood of Trieg crashing in on Kurt and Lance’s secret rendezvous was highly unlikely… even so. Logan had his own theory of what was going on between Kurt and Lance but he’d let them figure it out. But that still didn’t give Kurt some pass to the rules of the mansion.

So he waited, arms crossed with Kitty sitting in front of him, nervously shifting in the desk chair. He watched from the shadows when Kurt returned to his dark room, taking off his scarf with some silly smile on his face.

Logan wrenched down on the desk lamp chain, almost tearing it off in the process. “I see someone had a good time tonight.”

Kurt’s smile disappeared, replaced by open shock and chagrin. After he had taken in the whole tableau waiting for him, he hissed out, “Kitty!”

“I couldn’t help it! He can, like, sniff out a lie a mile away.”

 “Not only lies, but that better not be alcohol I smell.” Logan knew the answer already. While Kurt obviously wasn’t wasted, Logan could certainly tell he’d been drinking.

“It’s legal in Germany.” Kurt grimaced, already biting his tongue for his quick retort.

 “Last time I looked, we weren’t in Germany,” Logan growled back.

There was a small pause of silence. Kurt sat heavily down on the bed and dragged off his hat, resigned to his fate.

“Can I go now?” Kitty wanted to be anywhere but caught in Logan’s crossfire.

“No, you are both in trouble.”

“Me?” She stood up and whirled to face Logan, indignation written all over her face. “But I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“You tried to cover up for him and lie. Accomplice to the crime.”

“What? But that’s, like, so unfair-”

“You’re grounded for a week.”

“A week? But that’s New Year’s and Samantha’s having a party and –”

“A week.”

“But Kitty didn’t do anything!” Kurt interjected.

Logan was not amused at being contradicted. He turned his withering glare from Kitty to his next target.

“I-I forced her to lie,” Kurt continued.

“Forced her…” Logan repeated disbelieving.

“ _Ja_ , I, um, I,” Kurt exchanged glances with Kitty who looked at him hopefully, “I told her I’d drop her in the pool if she didn’t.”

“Drop her in the pool.” Logan kept the same monotone voice, repeating after Kurt.

Kurt nodded emphatically. “Yeah. Um, it’s really cold.”

Logan couldn’t believe what these kids were trying to pull. Did Kurt really think Logan would believe that he threatened Kitty? And in the pool? It was a stretch, at best, of a lie. However, he did find it admirable, them protecting each other.

Figuring he’d give them a chance to earn some brownie points, Logan turned back to Kitty. “Kitty?”

Kitty bit her lip in response and looked towards Kurt who motioned her to just agree. “No. God, you suck.”

Logan suppressed the proud smile that threatened to melt his stern demeanor. That loyalty was admirable. But it didn’t warrant complete forgiveness. Logan walked over to the main switch and flicked it on, giving them more light while also letting the two squirm for a bit. “While it’s good to stick up for each other, you gotta know when it’s the right time and when it isn’t. So, Kitty, you get three days instead.”

“Oh my god,” Kitty sighed in relief. “That means I can totally make Samantha’s party. I can still go, right?” Kitty turned hopefully eyes towards Logan.

“As long as you keep to the rules.”

“Yes! Thank you!” Kitty almost leapt to hug Logan but stopped herself short. “I can go now, right?”

Logan nodded.

“Sorry,” Kitty mouthed to Kurt before leaving him alone to face the music.

“And for you,” Logan turned, a quiet seethe threading through his voice. “What an irresponsible and bone-headed thing to do.”

Kurt looked down, ashamed at Logan’s words, but Logan carried on.

“And with Trieg out there? He could-”

“I doubt he’d be able to-”

Logan growled, displeased with being interrupted. “It doesn’t matter what he can or can’t do. There are other desperate people out at this time of night _as well as_ cops. What if you two had been caught drinking?”

Kurt shrugged , not looking up from his study of the floor.

“And I noticed you didn’t take your inducer with you.”

Kurt didn’t say anything, unsure if Logan wanted a response or not.

“Well?” Logan tapped his foot impatiently. “Care to explain?”

“Lance doesn’t like it.”

“I don’t care what Lance does or doesn’t like. What if someone came upon you two?” Logan was exasperated at how careless Kurt had been. True, it was unlikely that Trieg or some random person would stumble upon Kurt. He also knew that generally Kurt was level-headed. Just with the recent circumstances, he preferred if he’d just play it safe. And he just seemed so cavalier about the whole thing. Rules were rules. Logan didn’t appreciate being disobeyed. They couldn’t have all the students running about after curfew.  Especially if they were participating in underage drinking.

Growing more incensed as Logan worked out his thoughts, he made an executive decision. “Alright. Two weeks for sneaking out and three more weeks for drinking.”

“Five weeks! It was only a couple of beers!”

“You can go home to Germany and drink all you want, but while you’re here, you follow the law.”

Kurt raised his hands as if to defend himself before dropping them in resignation. “Five weeks,” he repeated in disbelief.

“Starting now. Now give me your phone.”

Logan strode over to Kurt, who reluctantly dug out his phone from his pocket. Holding out his hand, Logan looked at Kurt pointedly.

“Can I just make one last text?”

Logan stared back.

“Just so, you know, Lance doesn’t freak out? Please?”

Swayed – he didn’t want Lance busting up here, wandering where Kurt was – Logan crossed his arms. “Fine. But make it quick.”

Logan loomed over Kurt, ready to cut off any long-winded typing, but he didn’t need to step in. Within a few seconds, Kurt sighed and held out his phone to Logan.

Just as he took the phone, it buzzed back with a response. Logan couldn’t help but peek at the screen _: Seriously?! Five weeks! Damn, that blows. Logan’s a fucking asshole. But you’re right. Totally worth it._

Raising an eyebrow at that, Logan turned to leave.

“Can I see what he wrote?”

“Nope. Consider it the start of your consequence.”

Kurt flopped back on his bed in response.

Before shutting the door, Logan got in one last parting shot. “Doubt you’ll think it was worth it in five weeks.”

QQQQQQQQQQQQQQ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My notes from ages ago on the lunchroom scene (I had this scene sort of in mind when I first started writing this):  
> And Lance will come over to eat with them instead of the Brotherhood, say he took a stand and they’re friends and they’ll just have to deal.   
> And Kurt smiles brilliantly and Lance blushes, heart race, draws hearts in his notebook and in the center of the page L+K4evar! And he adds glitter pens to it. And starts writing his name as Lance Wagner. Haha Truly in character.


	12. Chapter 12

It took Logan almost a week to really notice.

At first, he had left Kurt alone, figuring he probably didn’t really want to talk to him considering he was the one to dole out the punishment. Besides, Logan didn’t want to face any teenage moping or snide looks.

Then after a few days of letting any lingering resentment simmer down, Logan figured he’d venture forth to test the so-called waters. Except whenever he stopped by Kurt’s room, he wasn’t in there. Logan just chocked it up to missed connections, but the Professor said he also hadn’t had a ‘talk’ with Kurt in some time either. So the next time Logan dropped by Kurt’s room and found it vacant, he didn’t let it go. Instead, he scoured the mansion - asking Hank in his lab, checking the Danger Room, Ororo in the kitchen – and wound up with nothing. He ended up back inside Kurt’s room, at a loss. Had Kurt still been sneaking out despite his punishment?

That’s when he saw a sliver of blue peeking above the bottom window of the French doors. It was a blistering 20 degrees outside with a fresh fall of snow sleepily cascading down. Logan had never checked outside the doors, figuring it’d be too cold for anyone to want to remain outside. Looks like he was wrong.

The shuffling of his feet spoke a broken rhythm to the snow drifting past the windowed doors. A weighty feeling settled on his shoulders and seeped into his bones. He shook and squared his shoulders, willfully shaking off the permeating feeling that something was amiss.

Opening the French door, he spied Kurt sitting just to the left -a book clutched a little too tightly in his hands. There were light sprinkles of snow decorating his hair and fur, like desperate fairies drowning at sea. His gaze was off in the snow-coated woods. Impenetrable. He had a red, plaid blanket spread across his lap but the dark blue one that closely matched his fur had fallen from his shoulders. He hadn’t seemed to notice. Nor had he even acknowledged Logan’s presence.

Hesitating for a second, Logan eventually reached forward to move the blanket back up, but as soon as he touched Kurt, Kurt shot straight up and away from him. His eyes were wide, like a startled rabbit while the book was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, forgotten about.

“Hey, it’s just me,” Logan reassured, dropping his arm away while stepping back to give Kurt some space.

“Oh.” Kurt put on a good show, as if nothing strange had just happened. He casually dusted off the snow coating his fur, before picking up the fallen book and throwing the blankets over his arm.

Logan, though, wasn’t fooled. Kurt’s movements were stilted, like an actor unsure of his lines. Still, Logan knew that if he tried to lunge straight to the heart of it, Kurt wouldn’t open up. A roundabout approach it was.

The cold had taken advantage of their interlude, seeping through Logan’s woolen sweater and sinking into his bones. Kurt’s escapade in his reading nook hadn’t done him any favors as he shivered around the pile of blankets in his arms.

“It’s cold as an angel’s tit out here.” Logan held open the door, a silent gesture to change location. Kurt wordlessly took him up on it, leaving the cold behind with the shut of the door. “What were you doing out there?”

“Reading.”

Logan held in a sigh at the monotone and uninformative answer.

He watched as Kurt dropped the blankets on the bed and deposited his book on his bedside table. The snow quickly melted to nothing from the cozy cocoon of the warm house.

Figuring he’d try again to jump start the conversation, Logan asked, “Want anything hot to drink?” He gestured to sit down which Kurt ignored.

“I’m good. Did you want anything?”

Frustrated, Logan was tempted to leave but he was well aware of the brusque tactic Kurt was employing, having mastered it long ago himself. Instead, Logan pulled out the desk chair and sat, sending a clear message they were going to have a conversation, whether Kurt stood the whole time or gave one word replies. “To talk. We haven’t gotten to in awhile.”

“Oh… I thought those were done.”

Kurt’s surprise was not what Logan had been expecting. The familiar weight of guilt crept over him while a niggling realization wormed its way through his thoughts. His complete halt to all communication between them had sent across a clear message to Kurt. Not intended, of course, but all the same. Logan hoped their burgeoning but tenuous bond hadn’t been completely unwound by his inaction.

“No. I just…” Logan sighed and dragged the desk chair over near the bed. He gestured for Kurt to sit down again.

This time, Kurt took him up on his offer – on the far end of the bed, body shifted away. It was a start.

Logan leaned on his elbows, the chair creaking in protest at the shift in weight. “I’ll admit, I haven’t really gone out of my way to seek you out. I’d look in your room, see you weren’t there and then just go off and think next time. This isn’t easy for me to say, but I probably wasn’t looking forward to being brushed off.”

“Why would I brush you off?”

“I grounded you.”

“Well…” Kurt hesitated, “at first I was kinda avoiding you too, but then I figured you had had enough of me and my problems and me screwing up.”

“Stop. That’s not it,” Logan practically growled. The niggling thought from before bloomed into full realization. All that spare time, nothing to distract him – no school, no homework, no Lance or Mark. Kurt’s thoughts must’ve constantly spiraled around Trieg, agonized over what had happened. Kurt remained unconvinced that he wasn’t at fault. Logan  _ knew  _ that. But still he’d fucked up anyway. It was like starting all the way back at ground zero. “Miscommunication. That’s all.”

Kurt nodded dutifully in response.

Logan closed his eyes a second and let out a frustrated sigh through his nose. Looks like he’d have to ease back into the swing of their conversations. He glanced around the room while racking his brain for something to break the ice, as it were. A hushed, rhythmic fluttering sound caught his ears. He watched Kurt idly run his thumb along the pages of his book. Each pass wafted a brief burst of air that ruffled Kurt’s hair.

“What’re you reading?” Logan asked, figuring it was a good enough conversation starter as any.

“Shakespeare.” Kurt held up the book quickly, but not long enough for Logan to read the title.

“Yeah? I thought you said Shakespeare was hard; and besides, shouldn’t your class be done with  _ A Midsummer’s _ ?”

“We are. It was actually pretty good once I understood it. The English English helped.” Kurt hesitated for a second before finishing his thoughts. “Thanks for that.” He blushed, as if embarrassed over reading for fun. “So I… got another one.  _ Hamlet _ .”

“Yeah? Saw the movie. Not bad.”

“ _ Ja _ ? Maybe I’ll watch it when I’m done.”

The conversation petered out. Logan stretched his hands up above his head and his legs out in front of him while leaning back to look at the ceiling. They both knew they were skirting the real issue. In fact, that was the overall problem with all their talks. While he felt that a bond was growing between them, the real impetus for starting the talks had been, for the most part, shunted aside. Partially because Kurt didn’t want to address the issue and partly because neither did Logan.

Logan thought back to their last real talk. It was before the tournament. Things had happened so fast and he’d been somewhat resentful at Kurt for breaking the rules. Maybe it was because there was that growing relationship between them that he felt more let down that Kurt would go out and so blatantly break the rules, which was hypocritical in itself considering Logan lived a lot of his life bending rules to his will. Maybe it was an unfair expectation he was putting onto Kurt, but either way, letting an incident like what happened at the tournament go by with but a cursory effort to address it was unacceptable. Logan figured he’d dive in now. Kurt at least seemed somewhat willing to hear him and talk.

With one last stretch, Logan stood up and moved the chair back to its place under the desk. In the mirror, he caught a flash of dejection flicker across Kurt's face before he flipped through his play to where he had left off. Obviously, Kurt thought that they were done. That Logan was just going to leave it at that. That wasn't happening.

Logan settled down next to Kurt on the bed, amused by the shock on Kurt's face before holding out his hand in a silent gesture. Kurt handed the play over to him, a curious look on his face. Logan thumbed through it for a second before putting it down behind them. “I don’t like apologizing, so I’m going to say this once. I didn’t mean to… I shouldn’t have dropped our conversations like that, especially after what happened at the tournament.”

Kurt shook his head. “No, it’s okay. You were angry and- ”

“No, that doesn’t excuse anything.” Logan wanted to offer more reassurances, but he held back. “You been doing okay… otherwise. Since Trieg?”

“I’m good.” A weightless statement Kurt delivered to the wall.

Logan clasped his hands between his legs and stared down at the carpet. It was so hard to know what the next step to take even was. He’d been partially successful at getting Kurt to open up but sometimes it felt so fruitless – like Sisyphus. For every step of progress, the weight of the problem inevitably pushed back.

Time for a different approach. No more futzing around the issue. “Outside, you jumped a mile when I touched you.”

“…You surprised me.”

“Were you thinking about Trieg?”

Kurt shrugged in response.

Logan didn’t say anything, hoping that Kurt would take the cue to expound. He didn’t. “Alright. Then, do you think about him often?”

Kurt just shrugged again.

“You know, I’m trying. I really am. But I can’t do this on my own.”

He let the silence fill the air as he gave time for Kurt to think and make his choice. He took to studying the outside. The light snow from before now mutely thundered in curtains of white. Millions of white specs smashed into stars against the windows - an instant melting in time only for a replacement to meet the same fate. The extremities of the windows were decorated with bursts of frost that encroached towards the ill-fated snowflakes.

“Sometimes… when something reminds me of him.... Like in the locker room at school or someone touching me the way that he…” Kurt trailed off there for a second, not wanting to complete that thought.

Logan looked over and saw that Kurt’s hands were gripping his arms in a tight hug while his gaze was directed outside. Somehow, Logan doubt Kurt was enjoying the whispered snowfall.

“But sometimes, even when there’s nothing around that should even make me think about him… about what happened. I just can’t stop going over it. I just want it all to be done and over with. I mean, shouldn’t I be over this already?”

“This isn’t a broken arm that’ll heal or tiff with a friend that’ll be forgotten about next week. This will stay with you forever. I know it’s not what you want to hear. But I’m gonna be honest with you. You aren’t ever gonna stop thinking about.” Feeling the palpable disappointment and despair radiating off of Kurt, Logan shifted on the bed. He didn’t like opening up about himself, especially to the students, who didn’t need to know all of his gritty past. But in this case, if he expected Kurt to be open with him, perhaps he should return in kind.

“You know I got my adamantium skeleton from being experimented on, right?”

Kurt turned to face Logan fully, surprise written all over his face at Logan willingly bringing up his past. He nodded in response.

“My time at the Weapons X facility was no walk in the park. Every day was torture. Whether I was being experimented on that day or not. It was constant.” Logan stopped short of revealing the agony that ran so deep it was like a bass string, continuous reverberating through his bones and body. Forcefully, he pulled himself away from those feelings before they could take over. “After I escaped, those days were always there on the surface. I was not in a good place. I was a danger to everyone around me, including myself.”

“How did you… get better?”

“Two things. Two good friends* and time. Lucky for you, you have plenty of both.”

“ _ Ja. _ ”

Logan frowned at the apathetic response. “Don’t get discouraged. Time helps. There is no cure. It’ll always be there. But little by little, it’ll fade like an old scar or wound that might sometimes ache, but it’ll be bearable.”

Kurt only nodded this time, once again facing out towards the window.

Logan sighed and stood up. While he knew there wasn’t going to be some sudden complete one-eighty, he had hoped that Kurt would’ve responded better.

“Alright, well tonight-”

“Thanks. For telling me about that.” Kurt shifted his gaze over to Logan. “I appreciate it.” He smiled – small and quickly gone – but it was there.

Logan felt relieved. Perhaps he had done some good after all. “Anytime. Now tonight, it’s New Year’s. You gonna stop holing yourself up here and come join us?”

Kurt looked confused. “But I’m grounded.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re in isolation. I’ll even let you send a text.”

“Ok.” Kurt stood up. “But how about a phone call instead.”

Logan had to admire Kurt’s cheek. “I’ll think about it, but first, how about some of Hank’s pot roast? I made up some black-eyed peas with some bacon and pork.”

“Bacon  _ and _ pork?” Kurt asked as he replaced his book back on the bedside table.

“It’s New Years. Gotta get all the meat in tonight.”

“Well, then what about chicken?”

“Ororo made some chicken pot stickers. Hope you’re hungry.”

“Starving.” As they headed down the stairs, the smell of delicious food and warm laughter eased away any remnants of tension and doubt.

  
QQQQQQ

Lance was relieved. Winter break was finally over. He never thought he’d think that, but he found it difficult to not see or talk to Kurt for almost two weeks. Whoever wrote “absence makes the heart grow fonder” was onto something there. The one thing that kept replaying in his mind was Christmas Eve….  He’d almost done it - he’d been so close to just leaning over and kissing him. It was at the last second that he chickened out. It didn’t help that Kurt seemed oblivious to his overture. He should’ve drunk more to calm his nerves.

But maybe he needed to start small. Baby steps to work up to … to he didn’t know what. Sure, kissing was good. It was always good. But he was still hesitant about embracing that side of himself fully. It was, simply put, scary. It was a side he had put so much effort into burying, that facing and acting on it was daunting. Perhaps it was good he didn’t kiss Kurt that night. He’d probably have freaked himself out and inevitably push Kurt away.

Still, he knew he liked Kurt. Had come to accept it. Even wanted to act on it. He just needed to build himself up to it… oh and see if Kurt actually liked him back.

First, he took Mark’s advice and started eating with Kurt and him everyday. Mark was right, or his parents. Lance wasn’t sure if the advice originated with Mark or was something he was parroting. Either way, he no longer sat with the Brotherhood, longingly look over at Kurt and Mark’s banter.

Next, he took Mark’s other suggestion – to just act. Not worry and think too much about what he wanted. Did he want to do it? Then he did it. He tried not to be bothered with labels and such. He found himself reaching out and touching Kurt more often. Grabbing his hand or arm. Maybe sitting a touch closer than necessary and letting his thigh rest against Kurt’s. He noticed that any more of a direct touch along his leg – even a hand on his knee – made Kurt uncomfortable and pull away. It was small reminders like that that made Lance extra cautious and nervous. He didn’t want to be the one to remind Kurt of Trieg. But so far, for the most part, Kurt seemed receptive of his touches. As an added bonus, it also seemed to help him accept his own feelings. Sure Mark had talked him through it before, but being with Kurt, wanting to be with him – like that – really cemented it.

Now all he had to do was confess.

“What’re you doing, twat?”

A hard shove against the lockers broke Lance’s train of thought.

Pietro stood inches away with Todd just behind him. The Brotherhood, needless to say, were not quite as pleased about Lance’s recent choice in companions.

“Where’s the jockstrap and furbrain? They wise up and ditch your loser-ass.”

“Ha, good one,” Todd piped in.

“You know,” Pietro continued. “I used to think Mark seemed like a cool guy, but obviously he’s just as much as a loser as you. And we all know that Wagner has kraut and hairballs for brains.”

“Really, those are the best you can give?” Mark’s voice from behind had Pietro and Todd spinning around like twin idiots. Mark towered over them, arms crossed, his height and musculature adding an overt intimidation to his insult. “Run on back to grade-school before I drop kick your ass.”

“I could take you and you wouldn’t even know what hit you.” Pietro leaned up into Mark’s face, his fists balled tightly.

Even though Mark was oblivious to the underlying threat, Lance was not. “Wanna try it?” Lance challenged back. He raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. He thought about sending a small tremor but didn’t want to escalate the situation any more.

Pietro sneered at Lance before backing down. “Whatever. Let’s leave these two fuckwads alone. No need to contaminate ourselves any further.”

As they sauntered away, Todd got in one last parting threat. “See ya at home, Lance.”

Flicking off their backs, Mark turned to Lance. “Want me to beat them up?”

“Nah. They’re mostly all talk. Besides, I have to go home and live with them.”

“Sucks.”

Lance shrugged. He mostly shut himself in his room since the summer, fed up with the rest of the Brotherhood’s immaturity, so now he just used their current spat as all the more reason to follow the same routine. They didn’t really bother him in there. Freddie didn’t seem to even care. Or probably even notice. He had better friends anyway now. Friends he could fool around with, but also depend on too. He’d never be able to have a conversation about his sexuality like he had with Mark with any of the Brotherhood or receive a gift as kind and thoughtful as the one from Kurt. He was almost of two minds of getting his own place and working for Magneto solo. Just hadn’t come up yet.

“Anyways, where’s Kurt?” Lance asked.

Mark cocked his head behind him. Several lockers down, Kurt was chatting amicably with Jose and his girlfriend, Marissa. Whatever Marissa was telling them must’ve been funny as Kurt and Jose were laughing and smiling. Lance felt a ping of jealousy. But then saw the bright side of the situation. It was a perfect time to ask Mark what he thought about confessing, and if he had any inklings on whether Kurt liked him. The din of the hallway covered up their conversation anyway as people milled around after lunch.

“Hey, um so.” Lance found it hard to just come out and ask.

“Whatever it is, just say it. It’s cool.”

That was one benefit of having Mark as a friend. He always went ahead and said whatever it was he was thinking and pushed Lance to do the same. Why not give it a go. “So, you know I like Kurt.”

“Right.”

“But only you know?” Lance couldn’t help but tilt his sentence as a question. He trusted Mark, but was worried that somehow his secret had been discovered by others.

“Unless you grew a pair and told him, then yeah.”

“Shut up. I have a pair. They’re fucking huge too.”

“Then tell him, Mr. Big Balls.”

Lance crossed his arms and scoffed. “How?”

“You go over to him and say….” Mark grabbed Lance meaningfully by the shoulders and furrowed his brow. “Kurt, I have serious something to tell you...” Mark broke into a grin before continuing on in a baby voice, “I wuuuuv you.”

Lance shoved Mark away. “Oh fuck off, you know what I meant. I can’t just tell him. What if he doesn’t like me that way?” Though if Lance was going to Mark for love advice, maybe Kurt was doing the same thing. With hopeful eyes, he asked, “Does he like me that way?”

“I dunno. Though, he doesn’t seem to mind you being all touchy-feely recently.”

“I was acting on your advice!”

“Hey, I didn’t say it was a bad thing. No need to be defensive.”

Lance sighed and rubbed his forehead. “But it could just be him being nice.”

“Then make some more overt advances.”

“Like what?”

Mark start ticking off ideas on his hand. “You could stare uncomfortably long at him, write a mushy poem, buy him horrible cafeteria food, send a dick pic.”

“You are fucking terrible at this. How in the hell did you ever get Shelly to go out with you.”

“I’m just spitballing here. I don’t see you having any ideas.”

“Well… I did almost kiss him.”

“Next time, don’t make it almost. Just do it.”

“It’d be really helpful to know if he’d like it first…. Otherwise, it might be kinda, you know, forceful and bring up bad memories.” In most of their conversations, they had avoided discussing Trieg, but for Lance, it was something he couldn’t help but bear in mind.

Mark nodded. “Lance, if you want me to ask him if he likes you, then just say so.”

“I mean, I don’t want to come on to him and then him reject me. That’d fucking suck.”

“There’s always that risk. I took a risk with Shelly.”

“Yeah? How are things with her?”

“I’m still seeing her every now and then. I wasn’t going to since she’s not interested in a boyfriend, but she’s just so –”

“Fucking hot.”

“No. Well, yeah, but I was going to say funny and smart. Did you know she wants to be an astronomer? She has this awesome, long telescope-”

“I bet you showed her your awesome, long telescope.”

Mark rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Really, Lance.”

Lance smirked.

“Anyway, she has it set up in her backyard, and with it she showed me-”

“Her celestial orbs?”

Mark threw up his hands. “Come on.”

“You know, the telescope is your dick and the celestial orbs can stand for her-”

“I got it, thanks. No need to mime it out. You know, if Kurt does like you, then I have no idea what he sees you in.”

“And that’s the thing. What if he doesn’t like me? I’m glad things are sort of going well for you and Shelly. That’s cool. But with Kurt, we’re all friends. If he says no, then it’ll make it everything awkward.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “Now you’re just going round and round. Stop making it so complicated. I’ll ask him if it makes you feel any better.”

“Yeah, ok. But don’t make it obvious why. Be smooth.”

“Stop worrying about it. In fact, let’s get it over with. I’ll ask right now.” Mark gestured over to Kurt, who was heading their way.

“What? No. Not with me here. Ok, just act normal.” Taking his own cue, Lance leaned casually against the lockers, doing his best to pretend they weren’t just talking about him. It was hard to smile and nod as Mark greeted Kurt when all Lance really wanted to do was to grab him right there and push him against the lockers and he’d press himself against him and he’d feel the sharp points of Kurt’s fangs as his tongue-

Mark banging the locker next to his head broke him from his daydream. “As I was saying,” Mark restarted pointedly, “so I think tomorrow’ll work after school.”

“What? What’s tomorrow?” Lance asked, completely lost.

“Sorry, man, but Kurt and I gotta finish up our History project. Too bad you’re not in the same class. But, you’d be too much of a distraction if you just sat around watching us work.”

“I wouldn’t be a distraction. Jerk,” Lance grumbled not quite under his breath.

“Well, Kurt and I have a lot of research and  _ questions  _ to go over, so.” Mark’s accompanying pointed stare clued Lance in.

Trying to play it cool, Lance nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right. I’d be bored watching you two nerds do work anyway.”

Kurt looked between them, knowing he had missed something but completely clueless as to what. Shrugging, he moved on to answering Mark’s original question. “Should be good. I’ll need to ask to make sure I’m allowed to leave my cell.”

“Man, how many more weeks left do you got? It feels like forever.”

“Three,” Kurt sighed dramatically.

“We should celebrate when it’s over.” Lance mimed drinking and waggled his eyebrows in suggestion.

“What? So I can extend it another five, six weeks? Or why not just make it a solid year.”

“Stop being so dramatic. This time you won’t get caught.”

“I’ll think about it.” Kurt hedged, trying to appease Lance without completely giving in.

Whatever retort Lance was going to say was cut short by the bell.

“We’ll make celebration plans later.” Mark heaved his backpack by his feet over his shoulder.

“Come on, Kurt. Time for another rousing History lecture.”

“Hooray…” Kurt monotonously intoned before turning to Lance. “See you after school?”

“Definitely,” Lance said, already counting down the hours until the last bell.

  
  


QQQQQQ

 

Mark lay on his stomach on his bed. One hand cradled his head as his other fished for another Cheeto out of the bag on the floor. He felt like the foreman from his comfortable position, surveying his minion doing his bidding.

“I think your two S’s are too close together.”

Kurt finished drawing the last letter of the title on the poster before sitting back up. “They’re not that bad. I can read it.”

Mark raised an eyebrow at him. “They look like some deformed balloon animals getting it on. What will Ms. Vicente think about our project?”

“Ugh, fine.” Kurt glared up from the floor at Mark before taking an eraser to fix his mistake.

“And the N looks like it’s out of line with the rest-”

“Do you wanna come down and write the title?”

“No, no. You’re doing a great job. Carry on.”

Kurt rolled his eyes before turning back to the poster laid out before him. He surveyed his handiwork before sighing and erasing and redrawing the N. Mark smirked in satisfaction.

He crunched on a few more Cheetos as he watched Kurt futz around with the rest of the lettering – erasing, redrawing, and then erasing again. After a minute more of watching Kurt imperceptibly change the same straight line, Mark caught on.

“Now you’re just doing it to annoy me.”

“Maybe.” Kurt grinned.

“Jerk.” Mark waited for Kurt to turn back to the poster before throwing a handful of Cheetos at him.

“Hey! I’m trying to actually work here, and you’re getting Cheeto dust everywhere.” Kurt brushed aside the few stray Cheetos that landed on the poster board, which left in their wake a large orange streak smeared across the top half of the poster. “Now look what you’ve done.”

Mark waved away his concern. “We can work on it later. We just got out of school, let’s take a break.”

“The only reason I can be here is because we’re working on a project.” Despite his protests, Kurt put down the pencil, leaned against the bed, and grabbed a handful of Cheetos.

“Yeah, five weeks totally blows.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Like Lance said, we need to do something awesome when you’re free.”

“ _ Ja _ , as long as it doesn’t get me grounded again.”

“No promises.” Mark laughed while he thought of ideas. Perhaps a double date wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility. Just depended on what Kurt thought of Lance. All he needed to do was whittle the conversation over to said topic.

Kurt ate his last Cheeto and wiped his hands together to get rid of any dust. “Here, toss me that orange marker and I’ll fix our poster.”

Mark did as asked and watched as Kurt expanded the ‘p’ in Depression to cover the orange smear. “Now it looks fat.”

“ _ Ja _ , cause it ate one too many Cheetos.” Kurt gave the ‘p’ a tiny mouth and dropped some Cheetos nearby. “Perfectly accurate representation of the Great Depression.”

“While everyone starved, the rich ate Cheetos.”

“The stock market crash was due to a dearth of Cheetos.”

“We’re almost in a Cheeto shortage.” Mark dug down into the bag and grabbed the last few chips left.

“Very depressing. I now know how they felt. Let me add that fact to the poster.” Kurt bent down as if to write.

“What?” Mark shot up from his prone position, for a second his gullibility getting the better of him.

“I’m not seriously going to –” at that second, Kurt’s watch went on the fritz, the ersatz image blinking in and out for a second. He tried to recover and pretend nothing happened by continuing his sentence. “-going to write that.”

Mark blinked. “What was  _ that _ ?”

“What was what?”

Mark stared unimpressed at Kurt. “You are a terrible liar.”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mark, though, could see the nervous way that Kurt fiddled with the marker and how he avoided his gaze.

“See, there it is again!” Mark reached forward as if he could grab onto what he knew he saw to prove his point.

Just as he reached out, Kurt pulled away and stood up, causing Mark’s hand to graze across Kurt’s. “Mark, you’re acting really weird. I’m going to go to the bathroom and maybe when I come back you can  _ not _ be crazy.”

Mark stood wide-eyed for a second at the touch before focusing on what Kurt was saying. He was not having that and stood up to block Kurt’s way. “No. I know something is up, and I think it’s really strange. What I saw…. But I dunno. You’re acting all weird. You’re not part of some  _ X-files _ , government mind control thing, right?” Mark laughed uneasily. He knew what he saw, but his mind couldn’t rationally explain it. He liked order and logic, and he wanted needed an explanation now.

“There’s really nothing.”

Feeling pissed at Kurt’s continued denial, Mark took a step forward, ignoring the crunch of a Cheeto underneath his foot. “Look. I saw it,  _ felt  _ something different. So don’t try to tell me otherwise.”

Kurt didn’t say anything but the tension rolling of his body spoke volumes.

“You’re my friend, in my house here. I think you should know by now you can trust me. So just tell me what the hell is going on.”

For a second, Mark stood brimming with anger and determination, but it all washed away as he watched the hopelessness spread over Kurt’s face and took in his defensive stance. Realizing he had almost backed Kurt up into a corner, and was possibly coming on a little strong, he moved to take a seat on his bed again. He petted his cat, Andre, nestled in the pillows, as he watched Kurt struggle to a decision. There were a few more flickers between images – between what Mark readily accepted as reality and something more fantastic.

“I… I haven’t always had good reactions.”

Mark smiled. He didn’t quite understand what Kurt meant, but he was glad that he was willing to open up to him.

“Try me.”

“I don’t really look normal. I look… different. Scary? It’s just how I am. And so I use this watch to… blend in?”

Seeing how nervous Kurt was, Mark tried to allay his fears. “I’m not easily scared.”

“Coming from the guy who hates horror.”

“Hey, it’s not the scariness. It’s the gore, ok.”

Mark waited a second for Kurt to respond or do something, but obviously he still needed to be encouraged.

“Show me.” Mark’s tone brooked no argument. He knew he could be forceful sometimes, but he felt, in this situation, he was right. They were friends – good friends. He knew Kurt, knew that whatever it was he was masking on the outside didn’t veil his true self.

“I haven’t had the best of luck when people see me…”

“That’s what you said.”

“And I promise I’m not some evil demon or anything.”

Now Mark was getting worried. All this buildup and delay. What if Kurt was some hideous creature with a drippy eyeball or festering, bloody skin. He swallowed down his nerves. “I like you for you, right. It’s what matters on the inside.”

Kurt looked down at his watch. The screen flickered from dim to bright. It was only a matter of time until it shorted out again. He’d rather it’d be on his terms than the watch’s when to reveal himself. With a heavy sigh, he raised his hand to the switch. “You have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“Of course. I promise.” Mark stood up off his bed, preparing himself.

The tension was palpable as Kurt silently triggered off his inducer.

Mark stared, dumbfounded before, without thinking, he let out an extended “Holy fucking shit.” It was one thing to talk about it but actually being face-to-face with reality…. It’s not that Kurt was grotesque as he feared. But he certainly was different. Feeling voyeurish but unable to help himself, Mark circled around Kurt before coming back to stop in front of him. Kurt – his arms cradled in front of him - exuded discomfort.

“I don’t mean to stare. Ok, no, actually I do. But holy shit! I mean, you have a tail and all!” Mark’s eyes widened at his declaration. It was true, but hearing himself say it was so strange. “I mean you’re-. Just what? I mean. What? Wow.” He shook his head and nervously laughed. “Is this real?”

Kurt just shrugged and nodded.

Mark was having a difficult time processing it all. His heart was beating fast – not out of fear, but out of disbelief, excitement, and curiosity. If there was someone like Kurt out there, then who knows what other possibilities might exist. He needed to confirm to his mind that this was actually happening. “Ok, I don’t mean to be rude and all, but can I touch you? Cause you’re covered in fur. You’re all furry. That’s… wow. Something.” Mark felt a bit like an idiot, babbling on and repeating himself, but it was all so surprising-out of this world-overwhelming-shocking.

A bit taken aback, Kurt clutched his arms tighter before shrugging. “I guess.”

Mark stared, wide-eyed and eager. Kurt stared back. After waiting several long seconds, Mark felt he was participating in some awkward staring contest. Exasperated, he held out his hand to prod Kurt into acting. Kurt didn’t follow through as Mark hoped.

“Well, come on, then. Give me your hand.”

“It looks like you’re asking me to dance.”

“Think of it as practice for prom then.” Mark smirked before bowing low and humming a few refrains of “I Wanna Hold Your Hand.”

Rolling his eyes, Kurt uncrossed his arms and put his hand in Mark’s.

Bringing Kurt’s hand close to his face, Mark ran his thumb across the back while turning it back and forth. Flashes of insight began trickling in – so Kurt didn’t really have some hand birth defect, the insults from Lance’s old friends made a lot more sense, and now that he thought about it, Kurt never let anyone touch him and always wore long sleeves. While his mind was preoccupied, his mouth voiced one of his stray thoughts. “Wow. You know, you’re really soft. Makes me think of Andre.” From his bed, the fat, grey cat meowed at the mention of his name.

“Yes, Andre I know you’re here,” Mark answered back. The mundanity of talking to his cat drew Mark out of his rambling thoughts. Realizing he was still looking at Kurt like some bizarre creature while simultaneously petting him, Mark quickly dropped Kurt’s hand and stepped back. “Hey. Sorry. I don’t mean to treat you like some lab specimen.” Mark felt ashamed. He had been confident that he would handle this with aplomb and not treat Kurt any different and here was, within minutes already acting like Kurt was some space alien. “I’m just kinda thrown off. But I didn’t mean to be all in your face and saying holy shit and being all creepy scientist like.”

“Well, the petting was weird. But you weren’t too creepy. More Emmett Brown than Dr. Jekyll.”

Mark smirked at Kurt’s joke. “Thanks, I guess. I‘ll get used to it and all…” While Mark could tell Kurt was playing it off, the way he rubbed his hand and held his body still radiated insecurity. He needed to get his reaction under control. Later on, he could freak out, but now it was more important to reassure Kurt that nothing had changed.

First, he needed to curtail his need to hover over Kurt and somehow ease the tension. Casually, Mark sauntered over to his bed, flopped onto his back, and gestured over to his desk chair for Kurt to use. Andre meowed in displeasure at the disruption before settling back down. Luckily, Kurt took his invitation and sat down, hesitating a second before propping his feet onto the end of the bed near Mark’s.

Now that they weren’t standing around awkwardly, Mark was able to organize his thoughts. His best friend was different. Really different. Ok. Mark was different too, being biracial. So it was similar, in a way, right? Nodding to himself, Mark reached into the bag of Cheetos only to rediscover the few crumbs piled into a corner of the bag.

“Damn, we’re still out of Cheetos.” Mark sucked off the orange dust that clung to his fingertips before crumpling the bag up.

“That’s because someone ate them all while someone else, someone more diligent and clever and smart, was doing all the work.”

“Diligent my ass.” Mark took the crumpled Cheeto bag and threw it at Kurt. They watched as it whiffed out and fell a few feet short onto their poster. Kurt smirked at him. “Whatever. And I’m helping. I have our research all right here.” Mark reached behind him and patted the tablet on his bedside table.

“ _ Ja,  _ very helpful.” 

Stretching out, Mark kicked Kurt. Thinking back a second, he added a second kick for good measure.

“Hey, what was that for?”

“You had me fucking scared there for a second. Here I was picturing some grotesque monster thing like the Thing or Alien or something. You’re more Disney than Wes Craven.”

“ _ Was _ ? Disney? But that’s so lame.”

“Well, I’m not saying they’ll make a plush toy out of you, but they would totally make a plush toy out of you.” Mark chuckled to himself as he pictured it in his head.

Kurt furrowed his brow in mock anger. “I think you are the worst reaction I’ve ever had.”

“Hey, I just mean you’re not actually scary looking. Just different.” He hadn’t meant to steer the conversation back to Kurt’s appearance, but he just couldn’t help being blown back and wanting to discuss it. After bouncing the idea around in his head, Mark decided to go for it. “Mind if I ask some things?”

“…ok.”

Countless questions vied for attention. Figuring he’d get around to the most yearning ones eventually, Mark blurted out the first that came to mind. “Are you really German?”

“ _Was_? Is that really your first question?” Now Kurt was looking at him as if he was the one with fur and a tail.

“Hey, give me a break. This is kinda mind boggling here.”

“No… I studied German so I can fit in with ze huuumans.”

“You’re an ass,” Mark shook his head in disbelief.

“You ask stupid questions.”

“And you have stupid answers. So, you’re really German then.”

“ _ Ja _ , I’m really from Bavaria.” Seeing Mark’s blank expression, Kurt expounded, “That’s in southern Germany.”

“Hey, geography is boring. So, are your parents … different?”

“Well…” This was a sticky question. “My real mom doesn’t have fur or a tail or anything. But she is blue and has yellow eyes. And my adopted parents are normal looking. I dunno my real dad.”

“Huh.” Mark crossed his arms behind his head, absorbing it all. “I didn’t know you were adopted. That’s cool. So you were always this way?”

“ _ Ja.  _ Genetics, I guess.”

“So if you got your blueness and eyes from your mom. Wonder what your dad looks like.”

“I dunno. I’ve thought about it, but I just hope he’s not like my mom. She isn’t very nice.”

“That blows.”

“Yeah.”

Mark still couldn’t fathom how it was possible. Perhaps Kurt was right, and it was all genetics. Maybe some type of weird genetic deviance. Figuring he wasn’t versed enough in science to explain it nor was Kurt forthcoming if he knew anymore, Mark mentally shrugged.  “Anything else I should know. Like, do you suck blood or anything?”

“ _ Was!? _ ”

“Hey, I’m just covering my bases, and you have fangs, so…. If you said yes, I’d be cool with it.”

“I’ll have you know my diet consists of only fresh children under the age of 3.”

“Oh shut up.” Mark scoffed at the ceiling before mindlessly reaching over to pet Andre. It was actually kind of funny. Sure, his mind was going a mile a minute – how was this possible, what else did this mean – but he was already finding himself adjusting. After all, it was definitely still Kurt with his weird humor. And somehow the way he looked suited him better. “Are there others?”

“That look like me? Not really. Though –” Kurt cut himself off, wondering if he said too much.

“What?”

“Nevermind. There’s a little more to it, but let’s just take one thing at a time, for both of us?”

Mark nodded, figuring maybe small steps would be best for both of them.

“Does Lance know?”

Kurt nodded.

“Hm.” Mark nodded back, thinking about his other line of questioning he wanted to pursue. That was one barrier down to setting up his two friends. Though, he couldn’t help but feel a flash of jealousy. How come Lance knew but he didn’t? 

Trying not to linger on that, Mark scooted to sit up on his bed again while weighing what to say next. Turning his head, he studied Kurt. Even though he had his feet up on the bed, the tenseness in his posture and the way he would only briefly meet Mark’s eyes said it all. He had so much to ask but in the end none of those questions were that important. He either accepted what was before him or he didn’t. Without question, it would be the former.

“So, you ready to actually work now?”

Surprised, Kurt sat up straighter and shifted his feet to the floor. “Oh. Are we done with the interrogation?”

“I’m good.”

“ _ Ja? _ ”

“ _ Ja _ ,” Mark repeated back with a smirk.

Kurt slightly smiled before turning to look down at the ground. “And... you won’t tell anyone?”

“Kurt.” The seriousness in Mark’s voice caused Kurt to look up at him. “I absolutely won’t tell anyone. Even if people wouldn’t look at me crazy, I’d never betray you.”

The gravity behind Mark’s words hung in the air.

“Thanks.”

“Alright.” Breaking the sober atmosphere, Mark reached over and grabbed his tablet. “So, are we gonna work on this project or what?”

“Yeah,” Kurt said as he slid off the chair next to the poster. “All we have so far is a half-colored title and a large Cheeto stain.”

“Then we better get cracking.” Mark pulled up their research doc while sneaking a few glances towards Kurt. He didn’t want to stare, but couldn’t help it. Luckily, with Kurt on the floor, hopefully his spying would go unnoticed. “So what do you think we should start with first? The stock market crash or all the economic shit before that.”

“Right, so first subheading, ‘1920s Economic Shit.’”

“Now who’s goofing off.”

Kurt ignored him. “Let’s go in chronological order. Probably easiest.”

Mark made some noise of acquiescence as he flicked through the pages on the tablet. Still, his mind kept straying. He had so many more questions, and he hadn’t forgotten his deal with Lance. Lance knew… all this time. Mentally shrugging to himself, Mark decided to just plunge right in. “Do you like Lance as more than a friend?”

Kurt froze.

“W-What? I thought we were trying to work on this.” He gestured towards their empty poster.

“Evading the question?”

“No.”

“So? Then, do you?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I dunno. Just the way you two interact and all. Just a thought.”

Kurt leaned back against the bed before looking up at Mark. “You know, if you keep trying to dig up all my secrets, we’re just going to have a Cheeto stained poster to turn in.”

Still, scrolling through their notes, Mark waved Kurt on. “Stop avoiding the question. I’m still looking at our notes. And while I do that, all you gotta do is answer yes or no. It’ll take like five seconds.”

Sighing in resignation, Kurt flopped onto his back. “It’s not that simple.”

Mark looked up from his tablet and waited for Kurt to expound.

“I’ve been… I guess, thinking about him more like that. Sometimes I get this feeling around him - it sounds so stupid - but you know all fluttery.” 

Mark nodded. Being with Shelly made him feel that same. 

“And I’ve thought about… kissing him too.” Kurt ran a hand over his eyes and through his hair, as if to wipe away his embarrassment at his confession.

“Sounds pretty simple to me then. You feel goofy around him, want to kiss him. Kiiinda straight forward.” 

Kurt sighed in exasperation before leaning his head back again. He fiddled with the end of a scarlet sheet poking out from the overhanging comforter. “I guess.”

“Why just you guess?”

“I mean, we’re friends. I really shouldn’t be thinking about him that way.”

“Why not? Friendship can lead to relationships sometimes.”

Kurt shook his head and sat up. “Yeah, but this can’t. And it doesn’t matter anyways. Lance is straight, and I don’t want to ruin our friendship. It’s just a small crush. It won’t last, so please don’t mention it to him.”

“I don’t think it’s so one-sided.”

“Lance told me himself that he’s straight.”

Mark wanted to cradle his head in his palm. It was just like Lance to indulge in self-sabotage. “Lance is an idiot sometimes and doesn’t know what he wants. Besides, don’t you think he’s been more touchy-feely towards you recently?”

Kurt shrugged. “Maybe.”

Obviously, Kurt didn’t believe Mark. He desperately wanted to tell Kurt that Lance likes him so they could both stop pussy-footing around each other. He paused a second, wondering why the hell not. If the whole point was to tell Lance whether Kurt liked him, then wouldn't it be fair to disclose Lance's feeling to Kurt?

But... both had requested Mark to keep hush-hush, which put him in a spot. He couldn't very well relay to Lance what Kurt said without betraying Kurt and vice versa. 

Mark internally groaned as he realized he only had one choice – don’t interfere. 

Lance probably wasn't going to commend Mark on his discretion, but he'd have to deal. Mark was going to suffer the most any way. As the middle man between his two best friends, he was probably never going to hear the end of recriminations and whining from Lance. Luckily, Kurt seemed more disinclined to share his feelings without further prodding from Mark.  

Mark sighed to himself, resigned to his fate. He should write a damn romantic chick flick script out of this.

“Well, just think about it.” Mark could only give a vague sense of encouragement and hoped Kurt could see past Lance's defenses.

 

Then next few hours, they kept the distractions to minimum, throwing all they had towards their project until Kurt announced he better head home to stave off any additional punishment. As they got into Mark’s car and started heading towards the mansion, Mark couldn’t help but be amused at Kurt crouched low in the passenger seat away from passing eyes. Yet, after several streets and a shared quiet, the reality of it sunk in. It was actually pretty shitty and sad that Kurt had to hide like that – like an outsider. But perhaps that was what had drawn them together and made them such good friends. Mark felt like he didn’t fit in with most of the student body. With Kurt and Lance, though, there was a sense of belonging. Kinda cheesy, but accurate.

They passed the car ride with idle chatter until Mark pulled up to the imposing, wrought-iron gates of the mansion. Luckily, the mansion was isolated, with the next house - if one can call them houses - located a few streets over.

“Here, hand me the project,” Kurt said as he opened the car door and collected his backpack.

“You sure you don’t mind finishing it up?”

“We got all the information down, so the hard part’s done. And I have so much free time. It’ll be like a Christmas tree – all decked out.”

“Just go easy on the glitter,” Mark teased as he passed the poster over.

Kurt paused a second, arm resting on the top of the door. “Hey, um… thanks for, you know, being cool about this and not freaking out.”

“Yeah. I mean it’s gonna take a bit for me to get used to. So I might stare. You do look kinda….”

“I know…” Kurt cut off Mark, not wanting to hear him finish that sentence.

“Hey,” Mark leaned closer. “You’re still you. I know that. We’re still friends. I just gotta get used to blue you. Besides, I might be a little jealous.”

That was a first for Kurt. “Jealous? Of what?”

“You got this whole demon-elf thing going on. Girls dig that shit. Glad you’re in a different competition group.”

Kurt half-smiled in return.

While somewhat reassuring, it was obvious that Kurt suffered from some self-confidence issues. Perhaps it wouldn’t be amiss to chat to his parents about it – of course leaving out the true reason why.

“See ya Monday, then?”

“ _ Ja _ .”

Feeling pretty good - he now had some more insight into Kurt, and he had a plan to help him – Mark drove off with a last wave.

 

QQQQQ

 

The soft rhythmic sounds of his feet and the intermittent thrum of passing cars. A permeating chill that was familiar and stirring. A grey sunset and shrouded yellow. Kurt breathed in the sting of winter, held in the sharp bite before exhaling. He watched as his breath swirled momentarily before dissipating in the air.

A bright red scarf waved to him as he passed a playground. The lilting laughter faded in the distance as the quiet settled in again.

He could’ve teleported straight back to the mansion to make his walk home from school faster. But he needed this small taste of freedom. He wondered if Logan understood his need to be out like this. In Germany, he had the whole woods to explore by himself – which while sometimes was utterly lonely, also held a sense of release. To be confined to the mansion for week after week was dispiriting to say the least.

Not wanting to focus on the confinement awaiting for him back at the mansion, he let his thoughts rove over the week. Mark now knew thanks to the faulty, irreparable inducer. In a way, it was a relief. Of course during that moment, he was petrified; his heart beating a rapid dance. But he should’ve known Mark wasn’t the type to let appearances dictate his thoughts. He was one more person he didn’t have to carefully waltz around or invent excuses for unanticipated problems.

And it was thanks to Mark that Kurt could suss out his feelings and openly admit that he really did like Lance. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, but somehow his feelings towards Lance had changed again. Not that it mattered. Mark was delusional. There were no hidden undertones to Lance’s recent actions. Mark was reading too much into things, and Kurt just needed to put a lid on his emotions. Smother them until they died away. He definitely didn’t want to make their friendship awkward or jeopardize it with his stupid crush.

While Kurt ordered his thoughts, his path now led him past dense tree copses that shielded the increasingly lavish houses from the public streets. The skeletal branches, deprived of their usual foliage, threaded their spindly fingers through one another. Casting his eyes down at the latticework of shadows on the sidewalk, Kurt made a bit of a game as he walked, challenging himself to step only on the light patches.

As he progressed from patch to patch, a slow feeling of unease began to encroach over him, like a heavy weight depressing on his shoulders. He stopped for a second in a spot of the late afternoon sun, suspiciously scanning any passing cars. Traffic lights changed, birds fluttered, and cars drove by. It was just a typical, mundane neighborhood. Feeling irrational and paranoid, Kurt took a breath before resuming his path, his game abandoned.

Despite his dismissal of his concerns as foolish, the feeling still pervaded and deepened. It was like a dagger was slowly being run over his back. Aching to pull out his confiscated phone and call someone, he watched another car go by. But he still had three weeks left of his punishment. He hugged his arms around his chest as he again checked his surroundings. He didn’t notice anyone behind him, but he felt a sudden rise of fear in his throat. The street was busy, but if he left the sidewalk – just a few yards – he’d have a clear spot to teleport.

Spotting a house with no cars in the driveway and hoping that meant no one was home, Kurt scrambled over the fence to the backyard. With a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, he teleported.

After a few more bursts of power, and Kurt was in the safe confines of his room. He didn’t even have time to let out a shaky breath when his door swung open. Seeming just as surprised as he was, Logan stood in the doorway.

“I was just looking for you. We got training in 15.”

“Ok.” Kurt gripped tight to his backpack, trying to keep his cool after being so tensely wound up.

Logan started to close the door before pausing a second. “You okay?”

“ _ Ja _ , why wouldn’t I be?” Kurt forced his voice steady.

Logan nodded before closing the door.

Kurt let out a sigh, releasing some tension, before throwing his backpack on his bed and changing into uniform. He told himself to get a grip, that there hadn’t been anything but his imagination. But he still couldn’t help but feel a deep gnawing worry. What if Trieg was following him around? He felt queasy to his stomach.

He looked at himself in the mirror and tried on a smile. He didn’t want to raise anyone’s concern. His smile looked strained and fake. He let it drop and figured maybe acting tired was best. He had just come home from school. And deep in his bones and heart that tiredness rung true. Closing his eyes and letting out a sigh, he ported to the Danger Room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- *referring to Heather and James Hudson who help Logan after he escapes Weapon X  
> \- “Another inducer on the fritz? If he didn’t know any better, he’d think some author was using a contrivance to have Mark find out about his true self. Ha, no.” Sadly, no fourth wall breaking in my fic.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

 

The pitch of night still reigned supreme as Kurt and the other X-men crouched on top of a tower of shipment containers, stacked into a massive fort. Even in the lee of the topmost containers, the bitter morning seeped through to his bones, causing him to shiver slightly. The pungent, briny smell of the bay wafted around him, like a noxious cloud. Turning to his right, Kurt watched Jean yawn widely before resting her head back down on her knees. Catching the yawn himself, he rubbed his hand across his eyes to help jolt him awake. A brief well of jealousy filled him as he thought about Evan, Rogue, and Kitty - back at the mansion, sick but ensconced in warm blankets and sleep. 

No one was much in the mood for conversation. Storm had woken them up at an ungodly hour, only for them to waste the early predawn sitting on cold, metallic and highly uncomfortable containers, waiting for a boat to dock.  

Not as exciting as Logan had made it out the whole week. He had bumped up the frequency and intensity of their training while constantly emphasizing the importance of their mission.

A shipment of ancient Japanese relics was being transported to Bayville for an exhibit at the Museum of Art and History. While each relic was an irreplaceable piece of history, it was the  _ Gigaku _ mask that was their concern. The mask had served as part of a dance drama during the 7th and 8th century, but at some point, was transformed into an item of immense power. 

As the Professor had iterated to them throughout the week, “No one should be granted that much power.” 

There was no doubt that Magneto thought differently, and had likely planned for his own assault on the docks to obtain the  _ Gigaku _ mask. 

As the moon trekked lower in the sky, preparing to yield to the morning sun, Kurt couldn’t help but feel anxious for the impending fight. He knew it was important to prevent Magneto from obtaining the mask, but that wasn’t what caused his throat to hold his heart. 

The last time he faced Lance in battle, things had wound up strained between them until… Kurt swallowed down the rest of that noxious thought. But since then, things had changed even further. More evenso on his behalf. He felt sick with worry that he would have to face Lance or one of his teammates would have to hurt him. 

Storm’s voice broke the silence. “Here it comes.”

Kurt turned to watch the small cargo ship finish the last leg of its journey. If not for the cold, it would be rather peaceful to listen to the ocean lap at the boat’s sides while the sun finally began to tinge the horizon orange. 

Upon docking, the skeletal crew of the boat briefly inspected the crates inside the shipping container before heading off for a well-deserved break.

Once the dock was clear of any stragglers, Wolverine stood up, gaining everyone’s attention. “I’m gonna go get the mask before the Brotherhood arrive.”

“Too late for that.” Storm pointed over to where the Brotherhood were emerging out of the woodworks, slinking about the shipment containers as they approached the docked ship.

“Ch. Figures.” Wolverine jumped down several containers with Cyclops close on his heels. The resounding reverb of the echoing metal caught Mystique’s attention. Directing the rest of the Brotherhood to her side, she led them straight across from the X-men.

Nightcrawler ported next to Cyclops, presenting a united front. 

“X-men. That mask is ou-” Whatever bombastic threat Mystique was going to say was cut off by a violent gust of wind that sent her tumbling back into a stack of boxes. 

Surprised, Nightcrawler and the other X-men looked up at Storm, who simply shrugged. “It’s too early for speeches.”

She turned back and followed up with some small whirlwinds, but Mystique was already on her feet. She deftly dodged the incoming vortexes before launching herself up and shifting into a sharp-taloned eagle at Storm. With that, everyone sprang forward to face their own opponents. Nightcrawler purposely veered away from Avalanche, who must’ve thought the same as he ended up on the far side near the bay against Wolverine.

Nightcrawler watched as the two clashed, hoping that Wolverine would hold back from his usual fervor. A wooden pallet rushing through the air redirected his attention. At the last second, he was able to jump to the side, but he still felt the wooden bits clatter against his feet from the impact on the hard concrete. Shaking his head, he needed to focus on the battle at hand and not worry about Lance. 

The Blob hurled several more pallets at him in quick succession. Nightcrawler dodged and teleported, but didn’t get any closer. He knew he couldn’t take on the Blob in close quarters, but maybe he could tire him out. 

“Stand still!” the Blob thundered as he exhausted his pile of pallets and moved on to a group of barrels. 

Before the Blob’s next throw, Nightcrawler teleported a bit behind Toad who was focused on Jean. The Blob, completely tunnel-visioned, automatically threw the barrel at Nightcrawler, unaware that his teammate was in the way. The barrel swept Toad right off his feet, causing his spit towards Jean to fly wide. Jean followed through by lifting Toad with her mind and throwing him at the Blob.

“Nice,” Nightcrawler commented.

Their victory was short-lived as Quicksilver diverted from Cyclops to take a potshot at Nightcrawler. 

The sudden hit to the back of his head caused Nightcrawler to take a knee and a ringing to start up in his ears. Before Quicksilver could come back around for a follow up, a cutting beam from Cyclops made him screech to a halt.

Clutching his head and pushing past the pain, Nightcrawler regained his feet just in time to see some of Toad’s spit come flying at him. Jean’s quick kinetic push diverted it to the ground just to the side,  leaving her wide open for Quicksilver to collided with her, taking them both down.  

Figuring Jean could handle Quicksilver, Nightcrawler turned to help out Cyclops. In a cloud of smoke, Nightcrawler ported right over Toad and let gravity due the rest. He landed roughly on top of Toad, causing his tongue shot at Cyclops to miss. He grappled with Toad, trying to prevent him from throwing him off or turning his head for a clear shot. His upright position gave him the advantage, and for now he had taken Toad out. 

A brief glance told him Jean was still in a tussle with Quicksilver while Cyclops was shooting beams at Blob to keep him at bay. Turning his attention towards the bay, both Storm and Wolverine were holding it out against Mystique and Avalanche, respectively. Maybe he could port inside the shipment container and get the mask while everyone else was occupied.

Any implementation of his plan was cut off when, in his moment of distraction, Quicksilver rushed over and pulled Nightcrawler by his hair straight off of Toad, dragging him a few feet away. The concrete tore at his uniform before he ported out of Quicksilver’s grip. The momentum caused him to tumbled a few feet, but he was able to get his hands and knees under him. Immediately, though, Toad followed up with a hard tackle to his back, causing Kurt to bump his jaw on the ground and to bite his tongue. A gush of blood filled his mouth, but he couldn’t let himself be pinned down. Twisting his body, he was able to get his feet onto Toad’s sternum and pushed hard. Toad was flung away, and Nightcrawler could hear him gasping as he hit the ground. 

Just as he was about to get up again, a violent tremble spread out underneath him. Small pebbles and remnants of pallets danced around the shaking ground. 

But he was not the epicenter of the attack. 

Looking up, he saw the Blob just a few feet from him, stopped in his rushing attack at Nightcrawler, as the concrete buckled and shook beneath him. The Blob stumbled about the quaking earth before crashing to the ground, creating a large crater. 

Stunned, Nightcrawler turned to Avalanche just in time to see him receive a punch to the face from Wolverine. 

“What the fuck, Avalanche?” Toad yelled.

Wolverine stopped any follow-through in his attack as he realized his opponent was distracted and that the battle had paused on one side of him. He slowly backed down, arms still held up defensively as he caught everyone staring at Avalanche in bewilderment. 

Avalanche cradled one hand to his now bruised jaw as he blinked at the onlookers as if bemused by his own action. 

The brief lull lasted only a second. The Blob, now recovered, contrary to his size, nimbly jumped up and wasted no time in charging Avalanche. Without hesitation, Nightcrawler ported over to Avalanche, quickly grabbed his arms and teleported them out of the way just in time for the Blob to go charging through the previously occupied space, straight over the edge of the docks and into the bay with a loud, resounding splash. 

Now even Storm and Mystique paused their tussle. All eyes turned from the Blob thrashing in the water to Nightcrawler and Avalanche, who had ended up on top of some shipping containers. 

Realizing he was still clutching Avalanche, Nightcrawler let go and took a step back. He could feel his embarrassment rise as everyone continued to stare at them agape. 

“Well, this is awkward,” he said. 

“Ya think,” Lance quipped back.

As Nightcrawler desperately tried to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes, he caught Mystique, sneaking towards the now unguarded cargo container, taking advantage of everyone’s inattention. 

Leaving Avalanche in a cloud of purple smoke, Nightcrawler teleported over to Mystique and jumped on top of her back. Before she could react, he teleported again, and they were both high above the bay, already plummeting towards the water. In one instant more, there was a ranging thud as Nightcrawler dropped back down beside Avalanche from his last port and fall, followed by a splash as Mystique hit the water. She burst to the surface, seething as she wiped water from her face. 

Momentum was now on the X-men’s side. Taking advantage of the turning tide, Jean focused her powers on Quicksilver, lifting him above the ground and throwing him into the Blob who had hoisted himself halfway out of the bay. They crashed into each other before splashing back down into the water. A beam of red flashed across the docks, hitting Toad squarely in the chest with enough force to launch him next to the rest of the floating Brotherhood. 

As a finishing touch, Storm harnessed the wind to push them out towards the middle of the harbor, preventing them from climbing out. With a sneer on her face, Mystique shapeshifted into a raven and flew off, abandoning the rest of the Brotherhood.  

Everyone’s pose began to relax as the last remnants of adrenaline subsided. 

“Not how I expected that to go, but I’ll take it.” Wolverine walked over to the cargo and with a quick swipe from his claws, cut off the lock. He swung open the doors, which gave a protesting metallic creak, before turning back to the others. “Well? Let’s find that  _ Gigaku _ mask and get out of here before the dock workers come back.”

Cyclops nodded and began to move towards Wolverine before turning to look up at Avalanche. “Hey, um. Thanks….”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Lance sneered, trying to regain some semblance of his usual self.

“Yeah, well.  If you need help dealing with anything, you know,” he cocked his head out towards the thrashing Brotherhood, “you know where to find us.”

Begrudgingly, Avalanche nodded in return.

Nightcrawler waited for the rest of the X-men to disappear inside the container before turning towards Lance.

“Shouldn’t you go help them?” Lance asked.

“Yeah, I will.” He nodded to the side of the container they were on before sitting on the edge, legs dangling over. He waited for Avalanche to join him before asking, “What’re we going to do?” 

“We?”

“ _ Ja _ , we. I think any fighting now might be difficult if we’re both trying to save each other from our own teams.”

Lance sat down beside him with a heavy sigh. “Yeah, I guess so. Though you didn’t seem to mind Wolverine pummeling to a mush.”

“Hey, I thought you were handling him pretty well.”

Lance knocked shoulders with Kurt. “I’m teasing. Besides, I think he was going easy on me. Didn’t even have his claws out.”

“He did give you a nice one here.” Kurt reached out to touch the blossoming bruise on Lance’s jaw.

“Hey, that hurts.” Lance swatted his hand away. “Besides, you don’t look so hot yourself.” He reached out and wiped at the blood trailing down the side of Kurt’s mouth and showed him the bright red decorating his finger. 

“Ugh, I bit my tongue. That’s the worse.” Kurt rubbed at his aching jaw where he cracked it on the ground. His head throbbed a bit from where Quicksilver had pulled him by his hair. 

“Could’ve been worse. You know, thanks for not letting me get crushed to death.”

Kurt smiled back. “Yeah. Same to you.” If this was a movie, this would be the time to make a move. The sun had risen over the bay, its rays reflected on the water; the seagulls’ caws echoed across the harbor, the sounds of Lance’s teammates, spluttering and cursing in the water. Kurt grimaced at that. Nevermind. 

“This is it!” a muffled cry came from the cargo container. The X-men soon exited the container, Storm carrying a small, wooden box under her arm. Kurt watched Jean stop for a second by the edge of the docks, curious to what she was up to. A small boat tied to the end sped out, unaided towards the Brotherhood.

“I couldn’t leave them out there like that. That water has to be freezing,” Jean explained to his questioning gaze. 

Kurt smiled at Jean’s kindness before hearing a barfing in his hear. 

“Blargh. Jean is so sweet and perfect. Makes me puke.”

“Don’t be a dick.” Kurt shoved Lance away. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Lance watched his teammates struggle onto the boat Jean had pushed out to them. They watched the sopping wet, growling Toad climbed over the side, followed by Quicksilver. The boat lurched in the water as the Blob tried to pitch himself over the side. Three times the boat almost capsized, but somehow miraculously, the Blob made it on board while the boat, sunk low in the water, managed to stay afloat. Quicksilver gave a parting middle finger towards them, before flipping his feet over the stern, picking up speed and propelling them away.

Lance raised his eyebrows at that. “Nice trick of his.”

“You know, you could come with us.”

“Thanks but no. I better go clean up at home. Shit, I really fucked up. They’re never going to forgive me for this.”

“Sorry.” Kurt felt terrible. While he didn’t think Lance should be with the Brotherhood, he never meant for him to choose between his team or him. They had even seen this coming but hadn’t dealt with it at the time. And even now he didn’t know how they could handle it in the future.  

“It’s not your fault. I’d do the same thing again. But I can’t explain it to them. They wouldn’t get it.” Lance pounded his fist onto the container. A dull clang filled the silence. Sighing, he stood up. “I better go.”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s meet up later.” Lance held out his hand to Kurt.

Smiling lightly, Kurt took the offered hand and let himself be pulled up beside Lance. “Ok.”

“I’ll call you, okay?”

“In two weeks?”

“Fucking Christ. I totally forgot about that stupid punishment.” Lance let out an irritated groan. “Ok, fine. At school. We’ll have to talk.”

“ _ Ja. _ ” 

Reluctantly, Kurt left Lance to trail after the Brotherhood.

  
  


QQQQQ

  
The grass was powdered in a thin layer of melting snow and had squished underfoot as Lance had made his way into the park. Under the shade of the trees and surrounding the picnic table, the snow was piled into white hills and pillows. For the past five minutes, Lance paced back and forth in front of the snow-dusted picnic table. He had gotten to the park early, hoping it would help calm down his nerves as he waited for Kurt. 

It had been two long fucking weeks. Two weeks of waiting and running the battle over and over in his head. Two weeks of needing to talk to Kurt but only getting brief moments in the hallway or at lunch. Always Mark was there. Lance was glad Mark was his friend and all, but damn if he wasn’t getting on his last nerves recently. First, he wouldn’t divulge what Kurt had said about liking him, and now he conveniently was always around, preventing Lance from just being fucking alone with Kurt for even a few seconds.

His frustrated thoughts built to a crescendo and with an angry kick, the snow piled around the picnic table was sent into a cascade of white out in front him. Feeling a bit better at the release, Lance turned and proceeded to shove the snow off the covered table in one turbulent wave. Exhaling out the rest of his energy, Lance glanced around the park, checking to see if anyone had witnessed his hissy fit. Relieved, he jumped up to sit on the table. He knocked the bit of snow still clinging to his new gloves off, a smile creeping over his face as he thought about that night when Kurt had given them to him. 

Folding his arms in front of him, Lance stared at his footprints imprinted in the snow. He hadn’t really asked Kurt to come here to talk about the Brotherhood and the X-men. In fact, he didn’t fucking even care about that right now. After the battle and two weeks of waiting out Kurt’s punishment, he had made up his mind. He liked Kurt. He wanted to be with him. And he was tired of putting it off. 

The only thing was, he had no idea how Kurt would react to his confession. With Kitty, starting their relationship had been easy… but somehow also less important. 

He wanted to get this right. 

He glanced down at his phone, checking the time again when a sudden impact against the back of his head had him shooting up and turning around. The cold seeping into his hair and down into his jacket told him he’d just been the victim of a snowball. He wiped away the remnants of snow clinging to his back while scanning the trees for the perpetrator. 

This time, snow broke apart against his left shoulder. The following, stifled laughter gave Kurt away. 

“You are so dead!” Lance yelled out, peering into the trees as he gathered some snow into his hands. Just as he started to make his way across the park, the telltale sound of Kurt porting right behind him was followed by a frigid wave of ice shoved down his back. He screeched in shock at the cold but was able to turn around and tackle Kurt to the ground before he teleported away. 

In his superior position, he proceeded to gather snow and shove it under Kurt’s shirt.

“How you like that?” Lance crowed as Kurt wiggled beneath him to get away from the attack.

“ _ Mein gott _ , stop. I surrender.”

Lance laughed. “That’s right. Don’t mess with me.” Having proven his point, he stood up and offered a hand to Kurt. 

Kurt grabbed his hand but pulled down hard, causing Lance to land in the snow beside him. 

“You ass!” Lance tried to tackle Kurt again, but this time he was too fast. 

Smirking, Kurt stood over him. “Who shouldn’t be messed with?”

Lance kicked some snow in his direction, but it merely dusted over his feet. 

“Truce?”

Lance huffed a second before agreeing. “Yeah, truce. Now give me a hand up.”

Eyeing him cautiously, Kurt slowly held out his hand. 

Lance let himself be pulled up. “See? Unlike others, I am fair and just.”

Kurt snorted at that.

“Dick. Nice hat by the way.” Lance reached out and brushed off some of the snow clinging to Kurt’s hat.

Kurt self-consciously pulled down his black beanie. “It’s cold. Nice gloves.”

“Yeah, someone kind and thoughtful gave them to me. Dunno where he went.”

Kurt rolled his eyes and turned away to brush the rest of the snow still trapped under his shirt. “I’m freezing now. Do you wanna go get something warm to drink?”

“Yeah, sure. But, um…” Lance took a steadying breath. “I wanted to tell you something first.”

Kurt looked curiously at the serious of his tone. “Ok.”

“And you might change your mind about wanting to get a drink together.” Seeing that he had Kurt’s full attention, Lance hesitated. This was it. For the past two weeks, he done his best to work through his insecurities and desires. He had talked to Mark, needing that extra support and push.  Whatever the answer was, he was ready. “So. I like you. Like as in more than just a friend type like. And it’s totally fine if you don’t like me back. I just needed to tell you and hope this doesn’t make things awkward between us. I’ve just been-” 

The sound of suppressed laughter stopped Lance’s speech.

Kurt had his hand up in front of his mouth, hiding a wide grin and muffling the small bursts of laughter escaping. 

“What. Come on. That’s pretty shitty. I just confessed my feelings to you. It’s not funny.”

Kurt shook his head and lowered his hand. “No. I’m not making fun of you. But…” His eyes widened in realization and disbelief. “Are you really serious?”

“Yeah, I’m serious.”

Kurt stared at him a moment. “Really? I mean... it’s just that it’s pretty sudden.”

“Yeah? So? Things happen suddenly.”

Lance’s flippant answer wasn’t the wise choice as now Kurt was looking at him skeptically, eyebrows slightly raised and mouth titled. 

“- and you haven’t even really seemed to show any interest.”

“I have too-”

“And as you’ve said before, you’re straight.” Kurt was now standing with his arms crossed, as if waiting for Lance to crack.

“Well, you’re wrong. I’ve thought about you. Do you even know. I mean, when at the mansion in the -” Lance cut himself  off there, not wanting to reveal that embarrassing moment, “- and then Christmas Eve in the park. I almost kissed you then. I was so close. And how could you not have noticed since winter break. You know, the way I’ve been more touchy with you.”

“I dunno. I thought you were just… I dunno.”

“And I wouldn’t joke around making you think I like you. That’d be a pretty shitty thing to do. Do you think I’d really do that?”

“No….”

They stood there for a few seconds. Lance, all keyed up and nervous now that he had gone off script. He couldn’t even remember what he had just said. Kurt seemed to be mulling over his ramblings, but Lance had no idea what he was thinking. He never thought that Kurt wouldn’t believe him and now what? Did he at least convince him?

“So… you really like me?” Kurt had a slight smile on his lips, but Lance was too wrapped up in his anxiety to notice.

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“ _ Yes. _ ” He had even practiced his speech and everything. Not that that seemed to have helped. “Whatever. I think I’ll just go.” He turned to leave but was stopped by Kurt grabbing hold of his arm.

“Just wait. You haven’t given me a chance to respond.”

“I think I got it.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” Slowly, Kurt placed his hand gently around the back of Lance’s head, as if unsure what Lance’s reaction might be - and pulled him down for a kiss - a small, brief movement of lips before parting. 

Lance felt his heart skip a beat and he couldn’t help but grin idiotically. “Oh.” 

“ _ Ja _ . Oh.”

Despite not liking when Kurt wore the inducer, Lance thought Kurt looked fetching with the blush across his cheeks. 

“So I guess you like me too.” Lance tried to make his smile turn more sexy and mature than foolish and giddy. It didn’t work. 

“What gave that away?”

“Then why the laughter?”

“I was surprised. You weren’t very convincing at first. Besides, you said you were straight.” 

Lance didn’t want to get into his whole turmoil of his sexuality, so he figured he’d just sum it up.  “Yeah, I know. I knew I liked girls, but thought I might like guys too. Just didn’t really come out and say it. And maybe I kinda hoped it was a passing thing. But then I realized I liked you. So, yeah.” 

Kurt slightly smiled at that. “So, um, when did you start liking me?”

“I dunno. It just sorta happened. You?”

“Yeah. Same, I guess. But you didn’t know, right?”

“Ha. I wish. It would’ve made this a whole lot easier.” Lance laughed to himself and shook his head. “You have no idea. I even asked Mark to see if you liked me. He wouldn’t tell me the answer. The asshole.”

“ _ Gut _ . He’s a trustworthy asshole then. I was wondering why he asked all of a sudden. But I swear I didn’t mean to like you. You said you were straight and I didn’t want things to be all awkward.”

“No one can resist my charm,” Lance preened.

“Yeah that must be it. What I meant was, I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable or anything.”

“Well, you don’t. As I said, I had to figure things out. I like boys too. Specifically you.” 

Kurt’s blush deepened. Lance figured this time he’d take the initiative and leaned back in for another kiss. This time, a bit longer, though still careful and hesitant.

When they pulled away, Lance let his stray thoughts become voiced out loud. “I guess I really am bi.” 

“I thought you just said… are you still unsure?”

“Well, no. I mean. I knew, but, you know, I was just… kinda still hoping…”

Kurt took a step back. “Are you sure you’re okay with it?”

“Yes,” but the quiver in his voice betrayed his uncertainty. Lance ran his hand through his hair in frustration. He didn’t know. He had acknowledged in his mind that he was bi. Had even just said it outloud and enjoyed kissing a guy. But yet somehow his heart still pattered with worry and fear.

“You know, we can just pretend it didn’t-” Kurt began to widen the space between them more, but before Kurt could get far, Lance pulled him back. 

“No.” Lance kissed him, albeit sloppily, causing their teeth to clack against each other. “Ok, that wasn’t my best kiss. It was I’m making a point kiss.”

“And your point being?”

“Shut up.” 

As they kissed again, Lance pushed off Kurt’s beanie and threaded a hand through his hair. Softly and gently he stroked Kurt’s hair, matching the tempo of their parting lips. The feel of a bit of fur around his lips was strange at first, but as he ran his hand along Kurt’s waist, he figured it would not be unlike kissing someone with very soft facial hair. A soft hand trailed along his jaw, a caress that sent shivers down his spine. 

With their tender kissing, Lance felt he could melt into the snow until a hand against his back pulled him in closer, and Kurt increased the intensity. Heartbeat increasing, Lance met his passion, tightened his grip around Kurt’s waist and trailing his hand along his spine. His fervor consumed any lingering doubt in his mind. 

Feeling ridiculously breathless, Lance eventually parted their lips. “Yeah. I could get used to doing that.”

“Good.” Kurt’s cheeky smile had Lance smirking in return.

They stood there, Lance with his hand still lingering on Kurt’s waist, both enjoying their moment. 

Finally, Kurt broke the silence. “While it’s nice and all, it’s pretty cold out here. Were you still up for that drink?”

“Yeah.” Lance let go and picked up Kurt’s hat before handing it to him. “Be nice to warm up after someone shoved snow down my jacket.” 

“Right? Almost as bad as having snow shoved under my shirt.” Kurt did his best to straighten his mussed up hair before shoving his hat back on.

Reaching out, Lance pushed one of Kurt’s stray locks back into place. 

“Thanks. So where to?”

“Bean to Grind?” Lance suggested. He was a bit disappointed they were leaving the park so soon. He would’ve braved the cold a bit longer to have more makeout time. But, he supposed Kurt was right. Now that he noticed, his toes felt frozen and his ears were burning cold. 

“Sounds good. Ready?” 

“Yeah, but um,” Lance hesitated a second. “I don’t want to be out just yet. I know I’m bi, ok. But, I’m still kinda… adjusting. And if the Brotherhood found out….”

“Lance, don’t worry about it.”

“You sure?”

“ _ Ja _ .”

Lance couldn’t read Kurt but he seemed fine with it. He hoped that Kurt would speak up if he had a problem with not being together in public. He just wasn’t ready for that step yet.

“I haven’t been there often. Let me pull it up on Street View.” Kurt pulled out his phone and began pulling up his app. “I really missed having my phone. It’s so nice to have it back. Gmaps helps so much with teleporting.”

“Huh. That’s kinda cool.” Lance was slightly impressed with Kurt’s use of technology and his powers.

“Right? Ok, let’s teleport to the roof first and then find a way down from there.”

“Sounds good.” He stepped closer, letting Kurt bamf them to a more comfortable spot.

 

The warmth of Bean to Grind embraced Lance as he swung open the door. Foregoing the modern look of clean lines and austere art, the shop felt like walking into a grandmother’s wood cabin. The cushy couches and mismatched chairs set around burnished wood tables beckoned customers to nestle down into the pillows and enjoy a steaming cup of joe. A fireplace was set in the middle of the room, its surrounding brick covered in a black soot that trailed to the ceiling. 

One reason Lance had chosen Bean to Grind was because he knew it wasn’t the haunt of many high school students, who were more into convenient, modern chain stores than a local, languid experience. True enough, a burgundy couch and chairs were occupied by some middle-aged women in the corner while college students crowded around electric sockets, their laptops shielding them from view.

“I’ll get the coffee. You get the table,” Kurt suggested as they approached the register, the menu scrawled across blackboard on the wall behind. “What do you want?”

“You sure? I mean…” Lance lowered his voice, “is this a date?”

Kurt shrugged. “I dunno. You don’t-” He stopped and gestured over to the side of the line so they could continue their hushed conversation. “You don’t want to be out yet, right?”

“Well, yeah. But you and I… we just,” here Lance lowered his voice to a bare whisper, “made out. So now doesn’t it make sense this is a date?”

“ _ Ja.  _ That’d be nice.”

“You and I could know it’s a date. But no one else would. That works.”

“If you’re sure…” Kurt turned away to get back in line, but this time Lance heard it in his voice - that doubt.

He grabbed Kurt’s hand, getting him to turn back. “I’m really sure. Ok. I’m really, really sure. About this all. I mean I know what I am.” Lance spared a look to the rest of the customers, making sure no one was listening in before continuing . “And I want to do what we did at the park again. Definitely again.” And more he added in his head. “I just don’t want to tell anyone else just yet… I dunno. I just can’t yet. Except Mark. He already knows.” He didn’t think he really explained himself well, but Kurt’s smile was reassuring.

“Ok.” Kurt squeezed his hand before returning to the line again. “But I’m still buying. Think of it as repayment for the snowballs to your head.”

Lance scoffed but acquiesced. “Ok, I’ll take the dirty chai. Medium. I like things dirty.” Lance waggled his eyebrows for effect.

Kurt laughed and pushed him away to go find them a table.

Lance lucked in, and was able to snag the two chairs on one side of the fireplace. An orange and brown crocheted throw decorated the club armchair he settled down in, while he let Kurt take the cream floral wingback with the decorative pink pillow. 

As he waited for Kurt and his drink, he stared into the fire, content to replay their last kiss over in his head.

“Here,” Kurt said as he handed him his drink and settled down with his own.

“Did you actually get anything to drink or just a cup full of whip cream?” Lance eyed the mug Kurt had put on the round coffee table between them. A precarious mountain of whip cream decorated with a swirl of chocolate syrup towered over the top, threatening to collapse over the sides.

“Yeah. I guess the barista just went a little whip cream crazy. Which is fine by me.” 

As they enjoyed their drinks, Lance couldn’t help but be absorbed as he watched Kurt lick at the edge of the whipcream and trail his tongue to the top. He wanted to reach over and wipe off the whip cream that stuck to Kurt’s lips. Preferably with his tongue. Distracted, Lance only caught the tailend of what Kurt said.

“- I just think it kinda seems important to work it out.”

“Oh, um, yeah. Wait, what? Work what out?”

Kurt sighed in exasperation.

“Hey, it is totally your fault I was distracted. You and your whipcream,” Lance finished under his breath.

Kurt’s salacious and devious look didn’t help matters any. 

“Were you doing that on purpose?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Kurt innocently took a sip of his drink.

Lance wasn’t fooled. “As soon as I finish this drink, we are going back to the park.”

He picked up his mug, ready to chug down the rest of his chai.

“Wait. That sounds good, but we really should talk about what happened at the dock. Especially if we’re going to see each other, you know... like this.”

Lance sighed in frustration. “Yeah, you’re right.” Instead of the big, scalding gulp he planned, he blew on his drink before taking a sip.

“Our previous plan didn’t really work out,” Kurt restated.

“Yeah, no kidding. The Brotherhood was so pissed. Mystique, though, was eyeing me all strange. I never know what that bitch is thinking.” Realizing he was actually talking about Kurt’s mom, Lance followed up, “Sorry.”

Kurt brushed off the apology as unnecessary. “What else can we do? The only thing I’ve thought of is to not go when we know the other one is there. Like switch off.”

“And what if it’s really important. That gigy, giga, or whatever mask seemed pretty important.”

“I dunno. But I don’t think I could just ignore you if you needed help. I mean, what if it’s dire?”

Lance leaned forward as an idea sprung on him. “Then, that’s it, then. We help each other only when it’s really dire. Like a major injury. Like being crushed or stabbed or something. Life or death.” 

Kurt shrugged. “I guess.”

“It’ll be fine. We can combine our ideas. First, we can see which one of us needs to go to the fight, right? Then, if it comes down to us both being there, we only help each other out if it’s something serious.”

“Ok,” Kurt glanced at Lance before turning towards the fire.

Lance could tell that Kurt still wasn’t really convinced, but it was the best they had. Lance thought it wasn’t a bad plan himself. Besides, there were more pressing matters to attend to.

As the conversation drifted to safer topics and his drink cooled, Lance began taking bigger sips until his mug was drained. 

“I’m all warmed up… wanna head back to the park?” Lance asked.

Kurt grinned in response.

  
  


With a bounce to his step, Lance walked up the path to the Brotherhood house. Taking off his gloves, he shoved them in his right pocket while a lingering smile trailed across his face. He was very pleased with how today had gone. Very pleased. Lance knew he’d be replaying that last, parting kiss in his head tonight.

His euphoria didn’t last long.

As soon as he opened the door, Pietro’s sneering voice greeted him. “So where you’ve been, asshole?” 

Pietro was sitting on the couch, TV playing before him, but his eyes pierced through Lance as he closed the door. Lance now had Todd’s attention too as he straightened up in his bean bag to get a better view of the upcoming argument.  

“None of your business.” Smile vanishing, Lance made towards his room, trying to circumnavigate Pietro before he even got started. A gust of wind followed by a sudden push from Pietro prevented any escape.

“Fuck you. I bet you’ve been with your new X-men side piece. What’re you doing? Working your way through the whole team?”

“It’s  _ none _ of your business.”Lance prided himself on his poker face. He knew that Pietro was clueless as to what was really going on with him and Kurt, considering it had just happened, and that Pietro was just saying shit to get a rise out of him. There was no way he was going to clue him into the truth.

“It’s  _ my _ business when you betray us in the middle of battle for an  _ X-men _ ! What the fuck is wrong with you. They’re our enemy.” Pietro’s breathing quickened as it always did when he got worked up about something. Lance had done a fair job at not rising to Pietro’s baits since the battle, but each time it was getting harder and harder not to lash back.

Taking a deep sigh, Lance calmly responded, “I didn’t betray you.”

“Are you kidding me? What else would you call throwing Freddie to the ground in the middle of battle. And then that freak goes and saves you.”

“Didn’t we already go over this? Every day. For the last two weeks. Get over it.” Lance rolled his eyes before trying to push past Pietro.

“Get over it? Fuck you man.” This time, Pietro pushed him hard enough to cause him to trip backwards. “We’ve been your team for two whole years! And the minute some X-freak comes along, you leave us out to dry.”

“Yeah,” Todd chimed in as he finally decided to join in on the daily “Let’s Fight Lance” show. “And each time we try to talk to ya about it, ya just blow us off.” He sidled up alongside Pietro, creating a barrier to his escape.

“More like yell at me about it,” Lance grumbled under his breath before he continued louder. “Fine you want to talk about. Let’s talk about it. I’m sorry. Happy?”

“You’re such a piece of shit, Lance.” Pietro spat. “We don’t want your platitudes.”

“Yeah, no platit- yeah…” Todd sneered at Lance.

“God, Todd, use a dictionary for once.”

“God, Lance,” Pietro mocked, “find some loyalty for once.”

Seeing that the conversation wasn’t going to get anywhere, Lance turned towards the door, figuring if he couldn’t get to his room, he’d wait them out by hanging out somewhere else. Maybe he could call Mark. 

“You know what. You should go join them,” Pietro said to his back. “We don’t want no Benedict Arnold on our team.”

Frustrated, Lance whirled around. “I’m not gonna go join the X-men, idiot. Kurt and I are just friends. It means nothing about my ties to the Brotherhood.”

“You can talk all you want, but you ain’t shown us nothin’ yet that says we gotta believe ya.” Todd crossed his arms and looking judgingly up at Lance. 

“Fine. Then what would make you trust me?” 

“Trust?” Pietro scoffed. “That won’t be so easy. Just show us some loyalty. Instead of eating with the idiotic furbrain, sit with us at lunch. Think you can manage that?” Pietro snidely ended as he voiced his proposition.

“What, so now you get to chose who I’m friends with?” Lance’s temper was reaching its limits.

“Yeah, when you chose him over us in battle.”

“Holy fucking shit, how many times do I have to repeat myself. It won’t happen again. It was a spur of the moment,” Lance lied. Besides he and Kurt had it all worked out now. With their new plan, it wouldn’t happen again.

“You know, we all accepted you being with Kitty before. You never turned on us in battle for her.” 

“I said it was a mistake! Stop beating a dead fucking horse!”

“First Kitty, and now Kurt. What are you? A goody-two shoe fucker?”

“Ha, yeah,” Todd picked up Pietro’s line of thinking. “Moving on to Wagner? Really? What are you, into beastility or something?”

“That is my  _ son _ you’re talking about.” Mystique’s gelid voice stopped their argument dead in its tracks. They all turned towards the stairs where she stood, imposing as she stared back. Lance didn’t know if he should feel relieved or not. His hands were clenched in fists, and he would’ve thrown a punch at Todd’s leering face if she hadn’t intervened. He deserved it.

Todd sheepishly averted his gaze from Mystique before shoving his shoulder into Lance as he retreated to the living room with a parting “asshole.”

Pietro scoffed, but backed away from Lance. “We aren’t done yet.”

“No. You are done now.” Mystique stared at Pietro until he followed Todd back onto the couch.

“I think it’s time you and me had a small chat, Alvers.” Mystique turned and walked back up the stairs, fully expecting Lance to follow.

Letting out an exhausted sigh, Lance had no other choice, but to join Mystique in her room.    
  


As soon as Lance closed the door behind him, Mystique gestured for him to take a seat in one of the chairs gathered by the window. Not knowing how to refuse, he complied. Mystique joined him, but rather than sitting, she chose to stand intimidatingly before him. 

“What is your relationship with my son?”

Lance raised an eyebrow at that. Mystique rarely referred to Kurt as her son. He didn’t know why she started now. He wasn’t sure how to answer. Obviously, he wasn’t going to tell her the whole truth. He didn’t even know how to classify their relationship with today’s happenings. 

“Well?”

Mystique, though, had been the only one to not rag on him about helping Kurt out during the battle. Maybe he could go for a partial truth. “We’re friends.” He added a shrug at the end, as if to convince her it wasn’t that big of a deal.

“Hmm.” She turned her head to briefly look out the window before continuing her interrogation. “How good of friends?”

“I dunno.” Uncomfortable, Lance shifted in his chair. She was asking as if she knew the truth but that wasn’t possible. “I mean, we hang out. You know, at school, or on the weekends. Sometimes his place or a friend’s.” 

“So he trusts you.”

“Yeah?” He wasn’t sure of the point she was getting at.

He watched as a smile grew across Mystique’s face. It wasn’t pleasant. “I’m sure he is a fountain of information on the X-men’s plans.”

“...We don’t really talk about that.” 

“Then start.”

“I… um.” Lance was usually not one for loss of words. And he should’ve seen this coming a mile away, but somehow he missed it. Of course Mystique was an opportunist, and she’d exploit any avenue to get what she wanted, even if it meant using Lance and Kurt’s relationship.

“It’s simple. Start casually shifting the conversation over. Don’t make it obvious. But you said he trusts you. Simply use that to our advantage.”

Lance felt disgusted. How could she think manipulating her own son was okay? But if he refused, that might be it for him in the Brotherhood. Maybe if she had asked him at the start of their friendship, he would’ve complied. But things had changed so much between them. He had changed so much. There was no way he’d betray Kurt like that. He’d just have to walk a fine line of appeasing Mystique without compromising his relationship with Kurt. 

“Should I take your silence as acquiescence?” 

“Yeah, I’ll do it.” Lance finished in his head ‘not in a million years.’

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't given up on "Retrieval of Self." This was just an idea that has been squirming in my head for awhile, and I finally decided to type it up.


End file.
